


The Null Room

by ArianShep



Series: The Retrofit [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Apologies, Backstory, Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), Biotics (Mass Effect), Bisexual Male Character, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Confrontations, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Dry Humping, E-mail, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, F/M, False Identity, Flirting, Foreign Language, Heavy Angst, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Torture, Invasion of Privacy, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Night Terrors, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Past Rape/Non-con, Pre-Mass Effect 3, Prison, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Sparring, Swearing, Triggers, Truth or Dare, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 88,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianShep/pseuds/ArianShep
Summary: Eilís Moran (AKA Elizabeth Shepard) has been having a bad few months. Or was it years? After enduring a horrible childhood enmeshed in gang warfare on Earth, she enlisted in the Alliance Navy, only to end up single-handedly destroying a Batarian invasion of Elysium. She'd just begun to discover some stability - as a member of her mentor's crew - when a Turian Spectre betrayed the Council, and she was sent out to kill him. She had a major (INTEND your puns) fight with her boyfriend,died... and then things gotreallyawful. She woke up on a space station, having been reassembled by an organization sheloathedwith every fiber of her being, and had to make peace with them long enough to save humanity...again. And the boyfriend? Being stepped on by a mech would have been more comfortable.Yet, she persevered. She blew up the Collector Base like the good little Paragon she is, only to be recruited by Admiral Hackett for apersonal favorthat turned... complicated.It was enough to make even the most heroic Alliance soldier a little... jaded. And that,beforethey threw her into a biotic prison cell.
Relationships: Female Shepard/James Vega
Series: The Retrofit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868344
Comments: 25
Kudos: 29





	1. Rage and Other Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of a null room (or, as in my story "Bonding", a null item) that displaces psychic/magic power is not new. Likewise, this isn't the first "prison fanfiction" I've seen. But I hadn't found anything I felt adequately addressed what prison could end up being like for a biotic Shepard (even a Paragon Shepard; can't imagine how much worse it would be for someone Command hadn't actually trusted). All we've seen in canon is what was done to Jack (and then, with the Omega DLC, the experiences of Nyreen). In comparison, I suppose one could claim that what happens to my canon Shepard isn't even that bad.
> 
> Or is it?
> 
> This story was born out of several chief goals:   
> (1) I wanted to go back and really look at the 'distrust of biotics' angle that Mass Effect 1 started to explore, and then weirdly abandoned.  
> (2) I wanted to bring an energy-worker's perspective to biotics, and some of the implications of Reave in particular.  
> (3) I prefer fanfiction that attempts to follow canon as much as possible, and so this story does that.  
> (4) I wanted to read something I found truly _funny_ , so I wrote it myself.   
> (5) I was intensely annoyed at the Vega "romance" (COUGHCOUGHCOUGH) in the _Citadel DLC_. I wanted a better arc for James Vega than "OK, who is this huge dude, why does Shepard put up with his shit, and is she REALLY going to go there?" Really, Bioware, you couldn't do any better than that?
> 
> Consider this my attempt at giving you DLC for their romance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's been imprisoned in a Bad Place for nearly a week before people manage to get there. She's not a happy camper.

In the hours between dropping Liara T'Soni on Thessia and docking in Vancouver, Eliza Shepard steeled herself for the inevitable. She sent out a few last, careful messages. Left a directive in the console in the CIC that someone needed to feed the fish in her cabin. Roamed the corridors. Said goodbye to her skeleton crew. Asked Joker one last time whether he was sure he didn't want to go off on his own. Accepted (again) when he refused. She assured herself that it would all be OK. It had to be. She'd gone over the probables, planned this out to the smallest detail. Shepard was ready for anything.

Except the null room.

\--

Traumatized people know rage as an inconstant friend, one who is absent for days and even weeks, only to wake them with an unexpected nighttime call, a sudden informative schism of the heart that can break down walls. Occasionally entire buildings.

Shepard suspected this was why they'd taken her amp.

It was bad enough to be thrown into solitary without her omni-tool, but any sentinel under disciplinary action would expect to lose that piece of equipment. She'd planned for it (as far as she could) by backing up her data and then reformatting the device. Twice. For cover, she reinstalled everything banal. Her original data she left with Liara. As a term of her surrender, she'd politely asked Command for a library of (acceptable) reading material. 

On the less-palatable end of possibilities, she'd supposed they might take her amp; it made sense, though it left her feeling ridiculously vulnerable. Especially as the Alliance made it clear there was a price on her head.

But the null room was unexpected. The null room was a bridge too far. Every fiber of her being rebelled at the lack of push and pull and touch and shock and pulse, at no energy moving anywhere, and being empty and raw.

Going slowly insane at the lack of sensation.

\--

Eliza made it through the first few days by telling herself they wouldn't keep her there once she'd been debriefed, and - given everything - that had to happen quickly. They'd offered a great deal of food; as much as they would have fed a functional biotic. She ate because, well, what else was there to do?

The excess food made her sleepy, and she slept deeply. Too deeply. Four days without a night terror wasn't exactly _unheard_ of, but it was uncommon. By that weekend, her fifth day in solitary, she'd figured out they were almost certainly drugging her food... and with far more powerful sedatives than Kenson's techs had tried. Probably so they could do exams and scans at night. 

That was Rage's first visit: the morning when she awoke, groggy in the utter static-less quiet, sure that they had taken blood and other fluids. That morning, Shepard began to break things.

\--

She'd expected Anderson would come. She didn't expect Hackett. That they arrived together, unarmed (but with three other marines) made her snort loudly and bitterly, even as she rolled to her feet. There was barely enough space in the four square meters to hold six people, and likely wouldn't have been before she'd started breaking the furniture. When David stated he couldn't immediately get her transferred, she threw the datapad she'd been reading at his head. Shepard hadn't actually been trying to hit him - so he dodged it - but it made her feel a bit better. The adjunct Marines also flinched, even though the padd had flown in the opposite direction, and that gave her another tiny flare of satisfaction.

Hackett immediately attempted to reassure her with the likelihood that it would 'only be a few more days.' Eliza's skull itched, hollow as bird bones. Her hands clenched and unclenched, likewise empty. She fixed her jade-hard eyes on the Admiral, and cleared her throat.

"You sent me to Aratoht." Her voice was like ice, cold and solid. She took a step toward Hackett and one of the excess marines, taller and broader than his mates combined, arched an eyebrow at her. The other grunts fared worse, one involuntarily letting his hand drift to his sidearm, the last shuffling his feet into a fighting stance. Shepard observed all these small movements out of the corner of her eye, even as her gaze remained fixed on the focus of her ire.

"I did. And - as I told you last month - I appreciate that nothing there was as expected. You had a terrible choice to make, and you made it. **I** understand that. You need to give us time to get the _other_ Admirals to understand." Hackett's voice, like sandpaper on her dead-quiet brain, droned on: "Convincing them to believe you has been..." The older man paused, looking uncomfortable, and concluded with "an uphill battle."

Anderson spoke up for the first time since the datapad flew by his ear. "I know you're angry, Liza," he too cleared his throat, "but we didn't order this... the _cell_." Shepard blinked, finally realizing that David was also pissed off about the null room. About the missing amp. "But we can't just bust you out of here. The Admiralty Board has you lumped in with every other dangerous biotic terrorist we've dealt with in the last decade: a member of Cerberus who destroyed a chunk of the Relay system last month, and killed three _hundred thousand_ non-humans."

Eliza _stared_ at Anderson, jaw clenching, but it was Hackett who finally broke her discipline by adding, "You knew there would be a trial, Shepard. I warned you weeks ago that they wouldn't let this go." His gaze left her face to flick around the room, and Shepard took another small jerky step toward him. Them.

Two of the three junior Marines quivered. The twitchy one actually drew, pulling her furious green eyes to his flushed face. She began to glow, just slightly. For a split second the air between them - despite the missing amp, despite the static dampeners impregnating the walls, floor, and ceiling - thickened, a misty blue haze forming that nonetheless was nowhere near strong enough to cause the Triggered Guard to warp out of existence. But she'd scared him. Oh, yes. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

"PUT THAT AWAY," Anderson grated loudly. He hadn't retreated, even as Shepard advanced. Enormous Guard, scarred eyebrow quirked, turned to the man who had drawn his pistol and gestured.

"Give it over, Hendriks. And go. If you're that scared of a nulled biotic, if you think _Commander Shepard_ would be stupid enough to attack her best chance at getting out of this room, you're _loco_." The man took the pistol, automatically checked the safety, and slid it into his waistband at the small of his back. He flung a hand out toward the door "Both of you - dismissed!" It had the sharp ring of an order, and Eliza took note of the Lieutenant's insignia she hadn't noticed on his arrival. As the younger men left, Enormous Guard turned back to his superiors and shrugged slightly "Sorry about that, Admiral. Bad choices, for all that they volunteered."

Yet, it had broken the tension. Eliza felt sick. She hadn't lashed out unthinkingly with her biotics since she was a young tween gang member. Even when she woke up on a slab at the Cerberus base, she'd stopped to check her targets. She'd been in the nullfield less than a _week_ and she was already becoming accustomed to the lack of efficacy. To the tantrums.

"You HAVE to get me out of here." Shepard passed a hand over her eyes. "You **have** to. I'm LOSING it. I won't be worth **shit** to you after two weeks in a repression field. You have NO idea what this is like for us."

Hackett winced. Anderson winced. Eliza watched them, and felt hope for the first time in days. Certainly before she'd broken the desk, chair, and bedside table by slamming them into the wall repeatedly, and woken up the next morning on a bare mattress on the floor in a near-empty room.

"Alenko warned you," Anderson murmured, and Shepard's sharp gaze narrowed on him, assessing.

"Warned _us_ ," Hackett corrected, becoming the third person in the room to clear his throat. "We fully expected to be here three days ago, Shepard, but the Board determined they wanted to finish their physical assessment before anyone saw you." Hackett wouldn't - quite - meet her eyes. 

Anderson scoffed, stepping towards Eliza and slowly - giving her at least ten seconds to pull away - put a hand on her shoulder. "Today they made an official ruling that, well- you're really you."

Shepard blinked. She glanced from Anderson to Hackett and back again. "They decided I'm... really me?" Her eyebrows came together. Suddenly the past week crashed in on her and she yelled "WHO THE HELL DID THEY _THINK_ I WAS??"

Hackett and Enormous Guard managed to flinch in unison, but Anderson turned his grasp on her shoulder into a slight tug, and he carefully wrapped her into a one-armed hug of sorts. Eliza was sure he meant to console her, but she wasn't having any of it. Not really. OK... maybe the touch felt good, because she hadn't had any (conscious) human contact since she'd been taken into custody. Maybe some tiny part of her believed that her mentor actually cared about her, because her eyes were filling with moisture she'd be damned before she let anyone call tears. But she'd abandoned her crew after Aratoht, to come back to this mess of a navy, to save this stupid planet, and everything had gone to absolute crap. Worst of all, she knew _she_ was the one who'd been stupid enough to trust them.

Eliza blinked rapidly to clear her eyes and pulled away from Anderson. "I've met with you both. They could have commandeered the damn DNA dump from the Citadel scanners. The asinine Council gave me back my Spectre status. _Everyone ELSE_ appears to know I'm me. What the _hell_ were they _thinking_?"

Hackett had clearly recovered. "That you're almost half machine," he answered coolly. Her eyes jerked to him, narrowed. "That Cerberus could have implanted damn near anything in you, and the Citadel might not know. Or care. That you just made an enemy of an entire race of aliens for a reason they can't bring themselves to believe, and Udina has been receiving calls for your execution." Hackett rubbed his forehead; Shepard noted he looked older, somehow, than when she'd seen him on the Normandy barely a month ago. Before this... colossal mess. Back when she thought that she just had to do this One More Little Thing for him, this one additional insignificant mission, and she'd be welcomed back into the Alliance with open arms. After all, she'd saved most of the colonies by defeating the Collectors. She'd destroyed their base. Repudiated the Illusive Man utterly. Stolen his shiny new ship. She'd thought - maybe she'd be given another commendation, another promotion? _Remember the Hero of Elysium? Why, yes - wasn't she the one who saved the Citadel and stopped the Collectors? I heard she brought her entire crew back from what had been predicted to be a suicide mission! The epitome of Alliance courage and tactics, truly._

Stupid. She was completely, totally, utterly, stupid.

Anderson was speaking. "-trial. Udina can kiss my-"

Hackett interrupted. "David, I've known for weeks that there will be a trial. It's only a matter of when they'll feel they've gathered enough evidence. It could be months. The only thing that matters at the moment is how soon we can get Shepard transferred to better accommodations. Hopefully a secure apartment." Admiral Hackett, one of the most powerful military leaders currently serving with the Alliance, looked around the null room in disgust. "I wouldn't have agreed to this either, if I'd known. Please believe me."

Eliza didn't know if she believed him. She was drowning in the reality of her own naivete'. She shut her eyes tight, voice nearly emotionless. "Coming back here may have been the biggest damn mistake of my life. That's what I'm hearing. I should have taken the Normandy, the best crew I've ever had, and gone after the Reapers on my own." She opened her eyes again, but refused to focus on Hackett as she ended with "That's my takeaway."

Anderson tugged slightly on her shoulder again, but this time Shepard resisted him, shrugging off his hand and turning to stare at the wall past Enormous Guard's shoulder. She blanked her face. She was done raging. Wouldn't cry. But she hadn't eaten since she'd figured out there were drugs, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they started spiking her water supply.

"Get me out of here." Her voice was dead, her jaw crushed shut so that the words were bitten off. "I'm already on hunger strike because they're drugging my goddamn food. If my water starts tasting funny, I'll be dead a few days later because the _fuck_ are they taking me apart at night anymore."

Anderson swung to look at Hackett, who - predictably - flinched, but then nodded. "I'll see to it that the drugs stop. I honestly can't believe they-" His voice got angrier, louder. "Well, let's all agree that the techs have a lot to answer for. We're NOT Cerberus. I don't give a damn about the safety protocols they put in place. Drugging prisoners to run tests is wrong."

Shepard snorted. Anderson snorted. Enormous Guard snorted, which made Eliza glance at him. She'd dismissed him twice, but now realized she'd made at least two errors; first, assuming he was an enlisted man simply because he'd come in as back-up, and then blithely assuring herself that anyone who worked themselves into a body that size must not have four brain cells to rub together. Sloppy reasoning. _Hell, in here, he could be a biotic too for all I know._

She had to get out.


	2. Court Jester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To sort-of quote GRR Martin, "a boy has no name." Until he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure prison is rough. Having never experienced it beyond fiction, research, and TV shows, however, some settling may have occurred during shipping.

Shepard was pulling a fork through the stew someone had slid through the meal slot in her door, over and over, when Enormous Guard showed up again.

At some point after Anderson and Hackett left, but before dinner had been delivered, several people had lingered outside the door. There had been a great deal of drilling and some banging. So it wasn't a shock that there was some extra noise before the panel retracted, a weird metallic clicking sound. The Lieutenant stood at relaxed parade rest on the other side of the opening. He looked down at her - sitting on the edge of the bare mattress, playing with her food - and his mouth tightened. He had hard eyes, Eliza noted, but a nice mouth. Or, it was probably nice under different circumstances. Right now, he looked furious.

"Does it still taste like they put crap in it?" She remembered that she'd liked his voice, too, or perhaps it was just the disdain. That edge of sarcasm. Mockery of the system and all that. She figured it probably got old quickly, however, if you were the target of it.

Shepard shrugged. Put the plate carefully to the side of the mattress, on the floor. Pulled her knees up, tucking her feet in close to her body, ready to rise rapidly if this visit turned less cordial. "I wouldn't know. I'm not eating it."

The man bit out a word that Eliza didn't recognize; it sounded vaguely like "Ho-er." Suddenly he was striding angrily towards her, into the room. Shepard shot instantly upwards and shifted sideways: left foot forward, left hand high, both hands open-palmed with fingers curled under. Her eyes focused on his sternum with obvious intent. 

As quickly as he'd burst into motion, the Marine jerked to a halt and held up a hand. "Whoah. Hey. Easy . I'm sorry I startled you, Commander. I just want to check your food. The Admirals exchanged a bunch of unfriendly words with the administration; there weren't supposed to be any more drugs. So if it tastes funny, *I* get to have a few unfriendly words with them, too. I was sort of looking forward to it, if they'd been that stupid." He flashed a smile: a truly disarming curve of the mouth that made Shepard wonder how insane it would be to trust someone in the military again. "Can I have it?"

Eliza pondered the two meters between them, calculating. She made up her mind, bent, snagged the shallow bowl, and held it out toward him. The guard took it, smelled the stew, stirred it, forked up a mouthful. He chewed carefully, swallowed, made a face. Shepard blinked hard at him and thought _OK, maybe I'm not the crazy one here._

"It's not great. But it's not drugged." Enormous Guard forked up four more large mouthfuls in quick succession, then offered her the bowl back. About half the stew was now missing. "I don't expect you to believe me on the face of it, so we'll split it. I'll hang out for a bit; you wait and see if I start to slump over. If I don't, you eat the rest. Deal?"

Shepard blinked again. Her stomach rumbled, three days empty. The man waggled the plate again, hearing the noise.

"We can split rations from now on, every damn thing they give you, OK? Just eat." His hazel eyes were strangely earnest. "Hell, I'd _make_ food for you here, if it was allowed, but this is the best I can do. If you really think they'd be dumb enough to drug your chow, knowing I'd eat it and you might not, giving you a nice hostage, well..." His beautifully-shaped mouth smirked again. "OK, maybe they are that dumb. But I'm not."

Shepard's eyes narrowed and she abruptly slid back down the wall until her rear end hit the mattress. She stared up at the man, taking the measure of her new captor more carefully. "No. You're not. I realized that earlier. I had you pegged as Grunt Number Three, but then I saw the officer's bars. And you were the only one who didn't show fear." She slid to her left until her back found the corner of the room, and she felt... better. "Reckless? Absolutely." Her eyes met his. "But not stupid."

The big man grinned wide, teeth flashing, and Eliza again felt a jolt. His face was oddly open for someone who'd reached Lieutenant. Had she still been that earnest by the time she'd entered N7? She rather thought not. Sometimes it felt like all her wide-eyed sincerity had been beaten out of her before she even joined the military.

"You wouldn't have been that far off, a couple years ago." Enormous Guard backed up a bit and likewise slid down a wall, still holding the stew bowl. He ended up sitting on the floor perpendicular to her pallet. "I'm older than I look."

Shepard snorted. "Aren't we all."

The man's grin got even wider. Eliza marveled it was possible.

"I'm James, by the way, Ma'am. Lieutenant James Vega. It's an honor to meet you."

Eliza arched a brow, surprised he hadn't thrown out his hand in an attempt to pump her fist in an enthusiastic, strength-measuring, handshake. She idly wondered if he was armed and maintaining his ability to draw, then sniffed derisively as the truth hit her. _Of course he is._

"Well. Good." She clenched her jaw against the knowledge that he almost certainly had a pistol, and could probably grin at her just that way, right up until he pulled the trigger. "Would have been awkward to refer to you out loud as 'Enormous Guard.' "

James started in surprise and then HOWLED with laughter. The plate, still in his left hand, shook. He steadied it and carefully set it on the floor between them. "Awkward, sure." He was still laughing, but more softly. "Accurate, though, I guess."

Shepard eyed him, then the food. James fingered something on his omni-tool, and told her "It's been almost ten minutes."

Eliza pondered, bit her lip, then muttered "Fuck it" under her breath. She sat forward, pivoted to her knees, reached, and snatched up the stew, all in one smooth, super-fast, motion. Was amused to see how Vega's shoulders quivered, just the slightest bit, as he tried and failed to suppress a reaction to her sudden movement. Even after Hackett called her half-machine, the Lieutenant obviously had no idea how strong she was; how fast. That she wasn't simply a biotic. As she forced herself to take a tiny bite of the bland stew - _slowly, carefully, don't vomit_ \- she observed him from under her eyelashes. Watched him watching her. He was quiet, seemingly relaxed. She didn't buy it for second.

After several minutes, when she was two normal-sized forkfuls from being done, James took the quarter loaf of bread they'd also given her, broke it in half, and bit into one of the pieces. He held the heel of the loaf out to her.

Eliza swallowed what she'd chewed. "I get the end?" She allowed both her eyebrows to arch, and put just the smallest hint of flirtation in her tone. _Two can play this game. Let's see what happens._ "And here I was just beginning to accept that you _might_ be a gentleman."

Vega, who was in the process of taking a second bite, swiftly withdrew his teeth, switched up the pieces, and held them both back out, bitten piece toward Shepard. 

"Ew, no." Eliza reached behind the partially-eaten slice to grab the heel. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"Suit yourself." The marine grinned at her again, and plunked his piece of bread back into his mouth.

Eliza noted how he never allowed his right hand to hold anything for more than a few seconds: the fork, the plate while moving to sit, the brief moment where he'd torn the loaf. It was more obvious because he occasionally gestured with his right hand as he talked, but she thought she still would have figured it out. _Firing hand._

The Lieutenant finished chewing, and quipped "Wondering how we're going to share the water, though."

Shepard rolled her eyes slightly. She had been correct about his flippancy beginning to grate. It was confusing, however, because his comments weren't overt enough to be definitively labelled 'flirtatious'. But the respect for her reputation he'd evinced earlier seemed to be mostly MIA. It was as if he were... teasing her? Eliza blinked as it clicked. _Distraction. From the null room. Anderson's doing, probably._ She abruptly wondered what Vega would do if she called him on it, and just as suddenly realized she didn't care. She was horribly thirsty, her head ached, and she was ready to fall over from exhaustion. She mostly just wanted him gone so she could curl up facing the wall and quietly not-cry herself to sleep.

The Lieutenant scooted sideways, reached out, and picked up one of the bottles of water near the door. Eliza made a face. Water was deposited there every night, always just enough to bring the total back up to six liters in three un-insulated carafes. Not that far away, and not exactly hidden from the camera concealed in the ceiling of her room, was the disinfectant-filled portable toilet. Warm liquids abounded. Her stomach twisted.

"Bottom's up," James intoned. He unscrewed and dropped the cap with his quick right hand, chugged the water with his left. Eliza's frown deepened until she realized that Vega was pouring water from the bottle down into his mouth without actually wrapping his lips around the opening. Tipping it three or four times, he drank approximately half the bottle and held out the rest. "I know that a _gentleman_ -" he mockingly dragged out the word, "would have offered it to you with a saccharine 'Ladies first', but that would completely blow the point of proving it isn't full of narcotics."

Eliza couldn't stop herself from laughing this time. It came out... wrong: harsh, short, more of a bark than a laugh. It was the first time she'd laughed in days, or maybe weeks, so it startled her a bit. The sound died as abruptly as it started, but she was slightly shaken. 

_Who is this man? Why did Anderson leave him here? Why is he trying so hard?_

She wrapped her lips around the mouth of the bottle and sucked down the remaining liter of water. As she had expected, it was warm and stale. But the guard was also correct - it didn't have the faint nutty aftertaste of the drug they'd been giving her.

Shepard lowered the bottle to find Vega watching her intently, eyes seemingly fixed at some point just below her chin. She doubted he was looking at her chest; she didn't have a lot going on there in the best of outfits, let alone in the loose pajama-type prison garb they'd given her. It rather seemed like he'd been staring at her neck, watching her swallow, which she found unsettling. He also wasn't grinning any longer. She eyed him cautiously and, with one last drag, emptied the bottle.

"Here's the deal." Vega cleared his throat, and Eliza tensed. "I'm staying. I can leave while you clean up - you know, as much as you can-" He coughed out a laugh when Shepard glared at him. "I know. There is nothing about this that doesn't suck. But I'm pretty sure they're trying to get you transferred in the morning. I was ordered to stay and make sure nothing happens to mess that up." James stretched his legs out in front of him, then flexed and extended both wrists, rolled his shoulders and neck. "It's going to be murder sitting on this floor all night, so while you're using the facilities, I may go get a chair." He stood fairly fluidly for someone who was clearly nursing old injuries, and moved toward the door.

Eliza gritted her teeth. "You don't have to stay in here, Vega. Surely you can park your chair outside?"

James paused, turned back toward her, and tilted his head. "But, if I stay in _here_ , I can do my best to keep distracting you from the crappy head blindness until you fall asleep. And despite stealing the better piece of bread," he grinned suddenly, "I am a gentleman." He paused to ponder his own statement. "Unless otherwise invited."

Shepard pressed back into the corner, jaw clenched. She hadn't had to confront him; he'd just admitted that he was here not only as a guard and protector, but court jester as well. _Central Casting Grunt, my ass._ Not a biotic, though. Not if he'd willingly stay the night.

She had to pee. She desperately wished she was clean, even though waking up clean-ish two mornings ago had filled her with impotent rage because it meant someone _else_ had washed her. She wished like hell she could at least manage a sketchy sponge bath. And if she was honest, she'd admit that she DID want him to stay and just talk, about anything, for hours. Any white noise was good. She caught herself wondering if he'd let her use his omni-tool, maybe pull up a vid. _No, he'd have to get a lot closer, and neither of us want that. He couldn't be persuaded to just loan me the omni-tool, could he? Unlikely. Damn._

"Or..." James winced and started over. "Look, why don't I tell you what I can and can't do, and you tell me what you do and don't want? How's that?" He didn't give her a chance to make a negative rejoinder, but plowed on ahead. "I can - and probably should - bring you more food. I can look for something better than the crap we just ate. I can bring fresh water. Once you use it, I'll take out the porta-john and get them to bring a fresh one. I can find you a wash cloth and toweling if you want to clean up. I can probably scrounge new linens so you can change those." Vega arched a brow. "I can't give you my omni-tool under any circumstances. I can't stay outside, not since Hackett got them to turn off the cameras." Eliza looked up at that, genuinely surprised. "I can bring back a chair, and sit in front of the door, and be somewhat amusing, but above all ensure that no one manages to break in here and collect the sizeable bounty the Batarians put on your pretty little head." He winked, smirking. "While you, hopefully, finally get six solid hours of sleep."

Shepard blinked at his bluntness. She approved. She could be blunt, too. "When you come back, will you still be armed?"

James blanched. Shook his head ruefully. His mouth twisted. "I told them you'd figure out I was packing. I was trying to be careful - what gave me away?"

She snorted. "You're obviously right-hand dominant; you disarmed the one you called Hendriks with your right hand earlier in the day. But you didn't shake my hand when you introduced yourself, and then used your left hand to hold the plate, bottle, and bread." Eliza arched a brow. "Also wouldn't have been as obvious if you didn't tend to talk with your hands."

Vega nodded ruefully. "Well, it doesn't matter. As you can probably guess, I don't often lose in hand-to-hand combat. If worst comes to worst, I'll just sit on you." The wide grin. "So, no, I won't come back armed. You can frisk me if you want."

Shepard blinked. OK, **that** was flirting. Straight up, not even slightly masked. Where had THAT come from? And then she realized: _More distraction. He has a gun, and now he knows *I* know he has it. If I was going to try something, it would be right now._

But Eliza didn't move. She sat on the pallet and pondered her bare feet and let Lieutenant James Vega shift his weight slowly back and forth until her silence became too much for him.

"Well?"

Shepard tilted her head just far enough to meet his eyes. "I want coffee. I want aspirin or some equally-tepid painkiller for my headache. No more strong knock-out shit. I want something sweet, preferably chocolate. I'll take a fresh, cold refill of the water bottles. And new sheets for the mattress. Also the towel, washcloth, and basin of soapy water." She dropped her gaze and stared at the portable toilet. "And if you are willing to make this first trip at least five minutes, I'll use the facilities. Thank you."

James looked slightly shocked at her list of demands, and then his damnable grin returned. "Yes, _Ma'am_ ," he drawled slowly, slight stress on the second word. He snapped a salute and was gone. She heard several loud clattering noises as his omni-tool dealt with the new locks.

Eliza allowed herself a minute to slump over onto the pallet, to bite her lip with relief AND grief. Yes, Hackett and Anderson had left her here. Yes, she was stuck in the null room for another interminable night.

But she wouldn't be alone.


	3. Stranger than Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in prison; James is still James. There's porn. Sort of.

He'd been as good as his word. Which perhaps shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did. He came back to the cell approximately five minutes later, popped all the extra door locks - _Why so many locks now?_ \- and then _knocked_. 

Shepard had tensed up, but forced herself to call out "Come in." 

Vega had hit the door panel and slid sideways into the room as soon as the opening was large enough. There was a military duffel bag over one of his shoulders, and he was dragging a chair with one hand while balancing a large plastic bowl in the other. He'd immediately keyed the door closed with his elbow, set the chair in front of it, and set the bowl on the seat of the chair. Then he began unpacking the satchel. Towels. Square stack of fabric that was probably clean sheets. Something oblong that might be a soap bar. Clear plastic jug of water with ice floating in it. A hard plastic thermos with colorful butterflies stamped on the exterior. 

_Butterflies?_

James had caught Shepard's eye, reached down to the base of the chair where he'd left the jug and thermos, and picked them both up. He'd gestured, shaking the former, and said "Ice water," and then the latter, "Coffee." He'd set the water down momentarily, twisted the top off the thermos, then very carefully (again without touching the spout with his mouth) poured a bit of coffee down his throat. "It's black. Not hot enough to scald if you were to throw it at me, but it's not horrible." He'd grinned at her. "And no drugs." He repeated the procedure with the clear plastic jug, swishing the water around in his mouth, presumably to clean the coffee off his teeth, and repeated "No drugs." Then James had smiled softly as he fished something out of his uniform pants pocket: a small metal tin, which he popped open to reveal three round white pills. " _These_ are drugs," he'd added wryly, "For your headache."

Eliza had found herself fighting back tears. It was the first time in weeks, maybe longer, that anyone had actually taken care of _her._ He'd said he would, and yet... she hadn't believed him. She'd inched forward, cautiously, toward him. "Are those aspirin?"

James had nodded. "Buffered. They should be OK on your stomach. Better than anything stronger, probably. There wasn't much available in the mess' first aid kit. They probably have all the good stuff under lock and key." His face twisted. "Reserved for when they're too afraid to snatch someone out of bed for a midnight probe without them."

Shepard had blinked in shock that he'd brought it up... and then tried to make a joke out of it. And yet, his tone was so dry, the words so sarcastic, that she felt a little warm inside to realize _he_ was also pissed on her behalf. That made at least three of them. Maybe four. Did she still have allies?

James had waggled the tin and she'd taken it from him. He'd passed her the jug of water, and she'd hefted it. It was damn heavy. "This is, what, four liters?" James had nodded, and then grinned as she struggled to hold onto the tin while getting the cap off the jug.

"Want help, _chica_?"

"No. I can manage." Eliza had popped all three aspirin into her mouth, and then hesitated. She doubted she could pull off the slow pour he'd managed so effortlessly without ending up with water all over her face. James noticed that she didn't immediately toss back the water and he laughed out loud.

"Go ahead. *I* don't mind sharing spit." His grin was ear-to-ear.

Shepard had huffed, felt her face go hot, but the coating on the aspirin in her mouth was beginning to melt and there was no _way_ she wanted to taste it going down; she quickly tipped the heavy bottle to her lips and up, washing down the drugs.

When she'd looked at her guard, he was still watching her with that irrepressible grin, but he'd quickly gestured to the chair seat. "Clean sheets. Clean shirt and pants. Bath towel and wash cloth. Water isn't actually hot, but -" he stuck a finger in the bowl - "it's still warm." He'd picked up the baggie, opened it, withdrew a sugar cookie at random, and bit into it. Eliza's eyes had tracked the motion and her mouth began to water. "Also, cookies."

He'd held out the half-cookie, lazily. Tauntingly. She'd observed the teeth marks. Watched him shrug and start to pull it back.

She'd grabbed it. Swiftly, almost without touching his fingers, she'd snatched the cookie and carried it to her mouth, chewing and swallowing most of it before she could even think about being grossed out by 'sharing spit', as he'd put it.

And James had _laughed_ again, not quite as loudly or as long as when she'd admitted what she'd been calling him in her head, but emphatically enough.

Then he'd saluted, bent to grab the porta-john, and opened the door. Actually glanced down the corridor to the right and left. "I'll give you ten minutes this time. I need to check in with Hackett anyway. But," he'd paused, face gone still and serious. "If anyone but me opens this door, don't stop to ask questions: yell for me and lay them out. OK?"

\--

Shepard had barely cast a glance at the panel above her head, where she knew they'd been filming her for the better part of a week, before stripping off her filthy clothes and bathing. Her mind remained as quiet as a morgue... but at least it felt good to be clean.

She hadn't been able to resist pausing during her 'bath' to eat and drink. The cookies and coffee didn't hurt her mood any. In fact, between the aspirin, the extra hydration, the caffeine, the sugar, and the solicitude - her headache appeared to be backing off a bit.

She'd scrubbed off flaky skin and stink, rinsed as best she could while standing on one of the towels, dried herself off with the other, and shimmied into the fresh clothes. She'd made up the thin mattress with the clean sheet and blanket. She'd drunk a bit more water, swishing it around to clean her own teeth as best she could.

Finally there had been nothing more to do than simply wait for him to return, sitting again on the edge of her bed on the floor, trying not to utterly fall apart because someone had deigned to make her feel human again.

\--

Shepard quietly rolled over to face the door for the third time. There was the barest light reflected up into the face of her... what? Captor? Potential ally? Dare she consider him a possible _friend_? Ever since she first feigned sleep, he'd been reading something on his omni-tool. Eliza clenched her teeth. It was so damn quiet again, and she was dying to know what he was reading. She'd have given half the cookies she'd eaten to get a hold of his omni-tool for even a minute. Simply to know what had absorbed him so utterly that he apparently had no idea that she-

"Shepard, why are you still awake?" James, face lit from below, eyebrow ridge a dark shadow that made him look sinister, spoke again. Apparently he could either see or hear her after all.

"I-" Eliza paused, trying to figure out how to tell the truth without sounding like a raw recruit. "My head still hurts." Now, that at least was true. "And the null field is..." she tried to figure out how to explain, and flailed. "It's too _quiet_ ," she finished.

But Vega nodded. "Want me to read to you?" After he'd returned to the room, inspected and approved her efforts with the food and drink, soap and basin, linens and clothes, she'd curled up in bed, he on the chair, and they'd just... chatted. Almost like two normal people. No talk of the Reapers, the Batarians, the trial. He'd asked if she'd liked the cookies, and she found out she could have also had peanut butter ones. He'd promised to try to swipe her some of those tomorrow. She'd thanked him. He'd said something else in Spanish she didn't understand, and she'd informed him haughtily that it was rude to speak a foreign language while she lacked an omni-tool to translate it. He'd laughed and promised to translate when he remembered. She'd prodded again: what had he said about the cookies? He'd actually blushed under his dark tan, slightly, as he murmured " _Dulces para el dulce_ means 'sweets for the sweet'."

That was when he had flicked off the light switch next to his head, plunging the room into darkness save the flicker of light that sprang to life on his omni-tool. And told her to try to sleep. He'd continued to talk to her for a few minutes, but she had been drowsy enough from the food, relieved enough that her head wasn't still killing her, to be slow with her answers... and he'd eventually stopped talking. Just in time for her to wake back up.

"Um..." Shepard thought quickly. _Well, I wanted to know what he was reading._ "What are you reading?"

The demonicly-lit face creased into a wide, somewhat frightening-looking, grin. "An adventure novel, set in the old pre-Alliance western United States." He wagged his eyebrows. "Cowboys, Native Americans, horses, guns, poker, and... a beautiful _bruja_ ," he intoned with dramatic flourish.

"Broo-ha?" Eliza stumbled sleepily over the unfamiliar word. All he had to do was keep talking, she thought, and maybe - just maybe - she could fall asleep for real.

"A witch," James murmured, and Shepard was surprised at the soft tone of his voice. "The main character is a gunslinger. He's... like a merc, or rogue Marine. As the story begins, he's tracking a rival gunfighter - a wanted criminal - toward the witch's home. When he arrives, some shit goes down, and he's hurt. The witch casts a spell on him. She heals him, sure, but she also... _enslaves_ him. She needs his aid in the fight against the _hombres malvados_ plaguing her." James' voice fell almost to a whisper. "The hero doesn't know it in the first couple chapters, but it wasn't just one hired gun- there was whole army threatening to destroy the town. *I* think the witch would have left the hero alone... if she'd had any other choice."

Eliza was drifting in and out of sleep, but somewhere in the back of her mind a dull alarm sounded, calling her attention to the way he described the story. "What, uh- what did the witch look like?"

James cleared his throat. "Oh, red hair. Green eyes. Don't all witches have red hair and green eyes?" His tone was insouciant.

Shepard blinked and shivered. Hoped he didn't see it. "Not all redheads are _bruja_ , James." She hoped she'd pronounced it right.

Vega grinned, all front-lit teeth and dark eyes. "No, sometimes they're just innocent victims, right?"

Eliza realized she was way out of her depth. But she also wasn't a witch. Or - even if she was - she was a government-licensed one who'd been caged in a place where she couldn't even defend herself, let alone attack someone else. And yet she didn't see herself as a _victim_ , precisely. Not yet. This was her job. Her _duty._ She'd been following orders. 

_Although Hackett had been pretty careful when he phrased going to Arahoht as a 'personal favor.'_

"Someone can be wrongly accused and still not _completely_ innocent," she offered. "Maybe the witch in your story really felt she had no other choice, as you said." Shepard paused, then blurted out. "How does it end?"

James stretched in the chair, slightly slumped, legs straight out and crossed at the ankle. "I don't know how it ends. I'm not done yet. Though... I am at a pivotal moment. Do you _want_ me to read to you?" He stressed the word 'want' ever so slightly. It made Eliza shiver.

"Uh. Sure." She flipped over onto her back so as to avoid having to see his face while he read, and instead pondered the weird shifting shadows the omni-tool cast on the ceiling.

_"Blake never faltered as he tore at his shirt. It was all before him now: love, destiny, perhaps his own death, but all he could see was the lust reflected in her emerald eyes-"_

Shepard blinked at 'shirt', turned her head at 'destiny', and interrupted at 'emerald eyes' with "What the **hell?** "

She watched as James' grin stretched to what could only be called 'evil.' It wasn't even the lighting. "As I said, it's a pivotal time. They're about to hook up."

Eliza could feel herself flushing deep crimson. _Thank God it's dark._ "You've only been reading, what, a half hour? Isn't that sort of fast?"

"Hey, sometimes it happens fast."

She allowed her head to completely fall to the side so she could glare at him. "Skip a few pages."

The Lieutenant slowly shook his head, clearly trying to look apologetic, and failing utterly. "I can't do that, Commander. How am I supposed to understand the ramifications to character development if I don't actually read how it went?" James quirked a brow, and the light did weird things to his eyes. They seemed to flash - with mischief, or something else. "If it's great sex, but they have an argument anyway, that tells me one thing. If the sex is bad, but they are both understanding, it tells me something completely different. It's _clearly_ Need To Know."

 _This is insane_ , thought Eliza. _I'm being threatened by a Junior Lieutenant. With pornography._ The thought steadied her.

"Fine." Shepard cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "Go on, then."

She didn't need to see him to sense his dismay. _All fun and games until someone has to read porn out loud, eh, Vega?_

Surprisingly, he did continue. His voice got softer and harder as the action did likewise, and Eliza found herself swallowing rather more often than she found comfortable. He had a nice voice. Knew it, too. And the story... wasn't bad. The sex was... She shifted. Damn, it had been a long time, and now-

_"Her long, wild hair stuck to his stomach as her tongue flicked out to just press inside his navel. The spell tightened around them-"_

Shepard shifted - again - on the pallet. Why did it feel like she'd exchanged one torture for another? "Wait."

James stopped reading. She heard him move, turned her head again, and saw him raising the water jug to his lips, tipping it back. So, now they were officially sharing spit. Must have happened when she stole his cookie.

"Commander?" Her title sounded half-taunt, half-benediction.

"As distracting as this is - and we can both agree it's damn distracting - it's not _exactly_ aimed at helping me get to sleep, is it?"

She could hear the grin in his tone when he answered. "Probably not, Ma'am. I know it's keeping me up."

Eliza clenched her teeth to keep from laughing at his outrageous behavior. It would only encourage him, and he was _way_ past informality already. 

"Isn't there _anything_ else in your omni-tool files that you can read out loud that will help me sleep? You can always go back to your... _bruja_ later."

Vega laughed softly. "Are you sure? I skimmed ahead while I was drinking, and there's a pretty good description of something I haven't done in-"

"I'm SURE, James."

His laughter continued, winding down into a chuckle. Light on his wrist flared and dimmed and flared again, as he searched his files. "OK, how about this?"

Eliza looked at the ceiling again and tried not to cringe.

_"The M-22 Eviscerator shotgun can be taken apart into thirty-four component parts, for a thorough cleaning..._ " 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really gets into my characterization of James, how I see him, what makes him tick, his loyalty and humor.
> 
> I'm trying to keep this story as canon-friendly as possible; part of my goal is that any of you (if you wanted to) could create Elizabeth Shepard, Paragon Earthborn War Hero Sentinel, and slip into Mass Effect 3 with this backstory lurking, and it wouldn't feel like too much of a stretch. We'll see how well I manage it.
> 
> Lastly, any mistakes with the Spanish language are mine and mine alone. i've used a ton of sources to try to emulate the internal mental state of a native Spanish-speaker with somewhat mixed success IMHO.


	4. Some Assembly Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night Terrors, Stupid Mistakes, and Reaving. Oh my.

She woke up screaming, because that's what she does now. 

This time, none of the pods would open. Her crew was liquefying before her eyes. Kelly Chambers turned into black goo, poured into the tubes. So did Dr. Chakwas. Kenneth and Gabby. The grumpy man who'd both run the mess and fixed the head when it broke down. All dead, melted into a viscous gel that drained into a huge human-based Reaper hanging just outside her Warp range, taunting her. 

Something else is also different.

"Shepard." Through her own frantic cries, she thinks she hears her name. Wait, she should be alone. She's been alone for _days_ now. 

Alone. 

Then she remembers Harbinger, the Reaper who can find her anywhere.

"SHEPARD," the low voice said - louder, closer - and she felt pressure on both shoulders. Someone grabbed her. 

_Harbinger_.

\--

Eliza's eyes flew open on utter darkness. She _reached_ , and the air around her gained a faint bluish-tinged light. There was something there, above her: a hulking shape. She _grabbed energy_ and pushed and pushed and _why wasn't it working_ and pushed and-

-the pressure left her shoulders. There were several loud noises. Pain blossomed like a dark flower in her head, clamped down on her brain like a vise. The agony forced her to shut her eyes again. She rocked back and forth, terrified, waiting. Nothing touched her. She was alone again. The visions of dissolving bodies receded. The voice of Harbinger was gone.

_It's gone you're fine you're alone It's OK Shhhhhh._

" **Ow** ," a deep voice growled across the room. The sound made Shepard roll until her back was against the wall, hands out in front of her, trying to force her eyes open enough to see something, anything. The room was almost completely dark, but having heard that word meant she clearly _wasn't_ alone.

Light flooded the room. Her head threatened to split open, and she squeezed her eyes shut - but not before she saw the crumpled form of a huge man sitting on the floor near the door, a chair half-fallen on top of him, left hand clutching his right side and right arm extended upwards, hand still on the light switch.

Through the pounding in her skull, it came back to her. "James..." she whispered, allowing her hands to relax and one arm to drape over her closed eyes. "Jesus, I'm sorry."

She heard what she thought was the chair rocking back onto its legs. She heard a dull click and sensed that the light had been turned back off. Cautiously allowed her lids to crack open on the dark room. There was a creak and a muffled male groan. "Yeah, well... I am, too. _¡Ah poco!_ I know better than to grab someone having a panic attack. I deserved that."

Eliza flinched, feeling tears leaking out of her eyes. God dammit, she was crying AGAIN. "No one who's trying to help deserves to be thrown into a wall."

The shifting stopped, and all was quiet for a dozen seconds. Then she heard him clear his throat. "Yeah, well. You didn't mean to do it. I shouldn't have touched you." He paused again. "Uh..." Another pause. "Out of curiosity... **how** did you throw me across the room?" She heard the chair squeal, and his footfalls coming closer, and she pressed into the wall until a tiny flare of light from his omni-tool revealed he'd stopped a couple feet away. He crouched with a grimace, putting himself nearer to her height.

Shepard sat up, bringing their eyes level. Except hers were still mostly screwed shut. She rubbed them clear of wetness and then pressed her fingers into her scalp, knowing her face was twisted with pain. "I..." she paused, pushing harder on her skull, "...used my own energy to do that, I think." Another pause. "And, um, maybe some of yours."

She cracked open an eyelid to see how he took her admission. He slid to the side, sat on the edge of the mattress, less than a meter away away from her. The pallet dipped slightly and she tried not to flinch. "That would be why I feel like I got run over by an APC?"

Eliza winced. "Yeah, uh, probably." Then she added "And, I mean... you hit a wall."

James let out a low chuckle that escalated into a full-bellied laugh, and just as quickly devolved into a loud groan. "In an anti-energy field, without an amp, you threw a hundred-twenty kilo man three meters into a wall. No wonder the administration is terrified of you, and will only take you out of here when you're drugged out of your mind."

Eliza covered her ears at the volume of his laughter. Felt guilty at his groan of pain. She clenched her jaw, then instantly stopped because it hurt so very much. All she could focus on was how stupidly proud of her he sounded. "It isn't funny, Vega. I could have really hurt you."

James was still snorting with amusement. "Remind me never to surprise you when you actually have your amp and you're NOT in a repression field. You might actually throw me _through_ a wall."

Shepard punched him. Not hard. She hadn't meant to do it, didn't realize she was about to do it. She wasn't thinking beyond how incredibly irritated she was with his reaction. But as soon as her fist hit his bicep, she knew, instinctively, she'd made an error. _She'd_ touched _him_.

_Oh good grief._

He flinched in pain, but his eyes twinkled. She instinctively snatched her hand back with the cybernetic speed she'd previously decided to hide from him. He followed the movement carefully, one eyebrow arching.

"Sorry," Eliza mumbled. She could feel her face heat up. "It's not funny. Every day I'm here means five days of re-training to get my control back." She ground her fingers into her temples. "As horrible as it's been in here, getting out might be worse. This is the stupidest thing they could have done."

James slowly lifted a hand to rub his left shoulder. "Ow, again," he murmured. "That's **two** hits you've landed on me, and all I did was read you pornography and grab you while you were having a panic attack."

Eliza _refused_ to laugh.... except then she did, because she couldn't help it. And then she whimpered, because the white hot agony behind her eyes flared up. She laid back down. "Could... could you go back to the chair? It's too... I can't take the light."

James drew in a slow breath and she squinted at him. "Do you trust me now? Even a little?"

Eliza blinked. He flicked his omni-tool off. She could feel him, a warm mass in the darkness. "I- Sort of, I guess?"

"Only sort of? I brought you _cookies_."

Shepard grimaced, biting her lip. "Please stop trying to make me laugh. My head is about to explode. Or implode. Whichever is more painful."

James snorted out a breath in amusement. "If you trust me, even a little, and I trust you, even a little, how do you feel about my staying here with you?"

Eliza blinked again. _What? Here? **Where** , here?_

James cleared his throat again. "I'm a gentleman, Shepard. Unless otherwise invited."

She remembered he'd said that yesterday. _Or today? Is it still Saturday? Should ask him what time it is. No, deal with this._

"I... don't know."

"Even if you don't completely trust _me_ yet, you can trust in two things: One, I'm in no shape to make a move. And two-" she could hear the laughter in his voice, "I've seen what you'd do to someone who _wasn't_ a gentleman. We both agreed I'm not that dumb." 

Eliza thought about it. It seemed to make sense, but her head was hurting too badly to be sure.

She peered through the darkness at him. He waited patiently. "How... would we do this?"

He shifted on the mattress. "Well, you've got options. I could sit at the end of the bed - if you turn around so I don't have to move this shoulder too much, I could work on your head, maybe try to knock the headache back."

"Or?"

"Hm?"

"What's the other option?"

There was a pause, and then he responded, slowly, "I could lay down. Maybe could still rub your head. I'm just concerned I'd fall asleep, and that's not a great look in a guard."

Eliza pondered that, examining it from multiple angles, automatically wondering if she could make use of it, then quickly deciding she didn't need to. He hadn't played her false, he'd brought her everything she'd asked for, he'd kept her from going crazy for an evening. Well....until the nightmare.

"Are you worried you could sleep through someone trying to break in?"

"A bit. Though I sleep pretty light in enemy territory."

Eliza allowed herself a tiny smile "I'm enemy territory?" _Am I?_ She sobered as she remembered, _damn, I almost killed him._

The Lieutenant carefully extended a hand and placed it on her right shoulder. This time, she merely winced slightly. He gripped, collarbone and scapula, and then took his hand away. " _¡No manches_ , Shepard! The enemy is _out there_. At any moment, someone from Admin might bust in and make trouble. Try to hold you. I was ordered to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You think..." Eliza flinched and rotated her neck carefully, head still pounding. "If they knew I'd Thrown you, in here, without an amp, they'd use it as a reason to keep me?"

"Absolutely. So we're not going to tell them, right?"

Shepard blinked back tears again. "I guess not."

She felt him move around, heard him gasp and mutter that guttural word again, the one that she'd heard him bite off before.

"What?"

There was a pause, and he gritted out " _Joder_. It means, uh, it's an exclamation of annoyance."

Eliza chuckled, and then clenched her jaw against the flare of intense pain that nonetheless seemed to be _slightly_ less intense than a few minutes ago. "So it means 'damn', 'shit', or 'fuck'."

James had resumed shifting around, and she felt his haunches brush her legs. She quickly moved them. "That last one."

"Are you... did I hurt you?"

James sighed. The sound came from the foot of the bed, where her feet had been. "Turn around and slide down here. Drop your pillow in my lap, or next to my leg." She could almost hear him frowning. "Nothing's broken. The shoulder feels a little funny, could be sprained. The ribs, too. Mainly bruising... probably. The uniform should cover it. Hopefully no awkward questions in the morning. I'll try to find some medigel before anyone sees me."

She thought about that, and what he'd told her to do. After a few minutes she heard him sigh again. "I swear, Shepard. Even if I wasn't broken, you'd be safe with me. I also promise not to grab you again, if you have another nightmare. One good thing about me is that I try very hard not to do the same stupid thing twice."

Shepard slowly swung her body around until she was facing the opposite direction, nabbed her pillow, and dropped it near his thigh. She carefully laid back, pausing when she felt him moving, readjusting, and then her head contacted the pillow, his hand contacted her head, and she very nearly moaned as he began gently rubbing her scalp. They were both quiet for a few minutes, becoming acclimated to a new reality.

"How often do you get these headaches? And the nightmares?"

"Most biotics get headaches once in a while. L3's not as often. And recently, almost never. Especially since Cerberus upgraded me to an L5 implant. New and Improved Shepard." Eliza's voice was bitter. "Some assembly required." She carefully ignored his other question.

His leg jostled under her shoulder as he chuffed a laugh. "So why is this one so bad? The room?"

Shepard considered it. "No food and little sleep for a few days. Probably withdrawal from the narcotics." She paused, debated. "But mostly... trying to use mass effect fields in here was dumb. I could have killed us both."

There was another quiet moment, and then James said "It's, uh, fairly obvious how *I* would have bought the farm: cracked skull, maybe a broken neck." Eliza flinched, and knew he felt it, because his caressing hand brushed back her hair and he softly tweaked her nose. "For the last time, I'm all right. And if I wasn't, I'd have had it coming." He returned to her forehead, fingers pressing in. It was pure bliss. "But how would you have killed yourself?"

Eliza pondered how much to say. She didn't want to frighten him, but she also didn't want to lie to him, and risk what trust they'd built. _Damn._

"I... Reave." There was no reaction, and she wondered if it was because he didn't recognize the term, or because he was rigidly controlling himself. "I drain energy out of people. Animals. Even objects, sometimes. If I want to do something badly enough, if I'm not careful, I'll drain my _own_ life energy. The concern is I could take too much of it..." Shepard trailed off. She shifted, rubbing her cheek against the pillow, realizing she was trying - oddly - to soothe fear he hadn't evinced. "Being in here would be difficult for any of us, but for someone who can Reave, it could be deadly."

She heard him swallow above her head, and felt her gut clench. Now he knew she actually _was_ the dangerous freak the Alliance believed her to be. " _Dios_ , he muttered. She thought she remembered that meant 'God." As in 'Oh My God.'

"Yeah, again, sorry."

"Stop." He stretched his legs, and his hand went back to rubbing. "It's just... I'm even more amazed you _didn't_ kill me."

"No amp."

"Yeah, I get it. Horrible decision by the Admiralty, though. Worst thing you can do to a scared kid with a big gun is load him up on blanks. No consequences. When he finally gets his hands on actual bullets..."

Eliza felt her eyes fill up with tears again. He _understood_. "Yes."

Vega shifted, and moved his thumbs to turn her head slightly; his fingers dug gently into the back of her skull. "So, it isn't going to suddenly be a party when you get out of here."

"No."

He sighed yet again. Threaded his fingers through her hair and gently pulled, trying to loosen the vise-like muscles over the occipital, then went back to circles on the scalp. "Go to sleep, _cabrona_. No more nightmares. I got ya."

Shepard believed him. And slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Shepard was a lot more talkative in my first draft of this chapter, but after consultation with a couple people as to their loquaciousness during headaches versus migraines, etc, i scaled back dialogue. For the curious, I imagine this Shepard's very infrequent biotic backlash headaches usually max out at 4-5/10 on the pain scale, but that this one is a 7-8. 
> 
> (2) If the depiction of biotic powers feels "off" to you, i definitely have my own 'take' on Reave. and, playing on a PC with the mod that de-couples cooldowns has perhaps spoiled me.
> 
> (3) again, if the (Mexican) Spanish is off, it's all my fault. native speakers, feel free to give me some pointers.  
>  _¡Ah poco!_ : "Seriously/Really", exclamation of dismay/disgust  
>  _¡No manches!_ : Stop screwing around, give me a break  
>  _cabrona_ : in a positive context, as here, "an awesome tough woman" (in a negative context, "a bad bitch")


	5. Morning is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An entire chapter on just getting out of bed? Inconceivable!

When Shepard woke up, her first thought was _Not alone_. She turned enough to confirm that - despite fearing what would happen if he slept - James had fallen over and carved out a place behind her at some point during the night. He was scrunched into an "L" shape between her and the wall, with half his legs hanging off the edge of the severely-depressed mattress. Eliza snorted quietly in amusement, and her second thought was gratitude that her head was no longer threatening to file for divorce.

She continued to take stock. Had to pee. **Hungry**. Brighter hallway light filtering in from the tiny high window meant it was morning.

Neither Admiral striding in, waving release papers. Shepard admitted to herself that she'd begun to believe it would happen, owned her extreme disappointment, and locked it all down again.

She inched a bit sideways, glanced over her shoulder. The Lieutenant looked even younger while asleep, almost innocent. Eliza wondered if she ever looked like that, even while sleeping.

"I wouldn't."

She jerked in shock. Not asleep after all.

"Wouldn't what?"

Vega slowly stretched. In the faint light, she could see he was wincing as he tested his range of motion. "Go for the omni-tool. I'd have to stop you, and I'd probably lose my gentleman status in the effort."

Eliza blinked, utterly lost. "I wasn't even thinking about... I mean, maybe I _should_ have been-" She gritted her teeth. "But I wasn't."

James grinned. "Uh huh."

Shepard managed not to punch him again. _Bad idea, bad idea._ "I was thinking I have to pee. That I'm starving. And that Hackett and Anderson haven't ridden in on white horses to rescue me yet." She pondered it for all of five seconds before adding "And how innocent you look when you're sleeping. Almost as if you couldn't grin and shoot someone at the same time."

His eyes narrowed. "You wondered that, yesterday?"

"Maybe."

James shook his head. "I'd never have shot you, because you were never going to try to escape. It was stupid to even have a gun. I told all of them that, but it didn't matter: they only allowed me to come back in solo if I was armed."

"What happened when you got rid of it?"

James tried and failed to sit up, face creasing into the expression that meant he was biting back more Spanish swear words. "I was racing around grabbing stuff, and I ordered the man whose thermos and cookies I commandeered to return the pistol to the weapons locker for me. I think he was so miffed I swiped his snack that he didn't stop to put two and two together." He paused, grinned, and added "I love being an officer."

Eliza's eyes widened. "You... stole that stuff from an enlisted man in the mess?"

Vega's grin widened. "Absolutely. It was what you wanted. It was prepared for someone else, so obviously no narcotics. Best of all, it was right there. He's one of the _pendejo_ jerks who sat by and didn't object as his superiors drugged the shit out of you - as karma goes, it was pretty mild. I even left him the peanut butter ones."

Shepard arched her brows and said nothing. The fact that she really wanted to use the porta-john reasserted itself. She shifted uncomfortably, and the man behind her sucked in his breath.

"Sorry. Jesus. I keep forgetting how badly I hurt you last night. Let me get out of the way."

Before she could slide off the mattress, James threw out an arm and lightly coiled it around her. "You don't have to. It's fine."

Eliza froze instinctively, then forced herself to relax. He hadn't done anything except reassure her he was OK. "Don't lie to me. I feel guilty either way. If you're in pain, you should go find medigel."

His voice sounded rueful behind her. "I'm... not exactly in pain right now. This isn't something medigel can fix. Just- stop moving for a minute, will you?"

Her brow crinkled in confusion, and then the light bulb clicked 'on.' She swallowed. Felt herself blush. "I- sorry."

James began laughing, then groaned. "OK, **now** I'm in pain. Look, _stop_ apologizing for things you didn't intend to do, and _stop_ squirming around. Give me, like, two or three minutes to forget about the hot _bruja_ dream I had last night, so I can crawl out of here looking a bit more military, and you can use the head."

Eliza turned back away from him and tried to slide forward on the pallet, to give him more room.

" _Mierda!_ Not helping, Shepard! Just- fine. Go, I dunno, sit in the chair for a minute."

She scrambled up and away, hearing him grumble as he stretched out on the mattress. He said a few more words in Spanish whose meaning she didn't particularly _want_ to know. However, once she was sitting on the chair, all the way across the room, she reasoned that she should probably make sure he was all right. She glanced back at him, and just as quickly looked away again. His condition was... obvious. Eliza closed her eyes and began to count to 180.

"You would think," he said conversationally, "that being violently tossed into a wall last night would have prevented this particular issue in the morning."

Shepard lost her count. Cast around for an appropriate thing to say. Came up empty.

"I'm not saying that rough sex is a bad idea, mind you. Just that I may have a cracked rib or two after all."

Eliza bit her lip. "I'm-" Remembered what he'd said to her. Shut her mouth.

James glanced over at her and grinned. "Better." He tried to sit up again, and this time he made it. "OK, that sucked. One more minute and I'll go find medigel."

She looked at him, slumped forward over his knees, holding the same area on his side he'd been holding when the light came on last night, and said softly "You have your omni-tool. You could just call Admin and have someone bring it here."

He growled into his knees."No."

"But-"

" **NO**." Inhaled sharply. Let out his breath slowly. "OK, well... at least that pretty much took care of the other problem. _Joder_." He leaned further forward, face creased in pain, obviously getting ready to try to stand.

Shepard shot forward - much too fast to be purely human - and extended her hand. "Let me help."

He paused, eyed her hand, then let his gaze travel slowly over the rest of her. "Not going to improve the situation if I end up yanking you back into bed with me."

She ground her teeth together. "I'm stronger than I look."

He laughed, then grabbed his side and snorted. "Damn it all to hell. I _so_ deserve this. All right, then. Just - slow and easy, OK?"

"Not like last night. Got it."

James dropped his hand as he began chuckling again. For a few seconds he was torn between laughing and saying "Ow. Ow. Ow." He finally stopped, wiped his eyes, and said "We even yet?"

Eliza didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "Not by a long shot."

James sighed, nodded, and held up his hand again. She took it, braced, and applied a steady backward force as he carefully levered himself to his feet. His face creased with pain, but once he was upright, he blew out a breath and seemed steadier.

"Remind me to have medigel handy if we sleep together again."

Eliza just shook her head at him. "Are you going to be able to walk and talk and generally appear not injured until you can get somewhere private and treat yourself? Because if not, this is just you torturing yourself for no reason. **Call. A. Guard.** "

Vega's hand shot out, and he chucked her lightly under the chin. She was so shocked, she didn't even move. "I said 'no.' I'll be fine. I should be back in ten. Maybe fifteen." He side-stepped her, bending his knees carefully, putting each foot down deliberately. His movements were slower than normal, but she had to admit they didn't scream 'I was thrown into a wall last night.' He used his omni-tool to deal with all the electronic security measures, hit the plate with his elbow, and was gone. She heard all the locks reengage.

_Now what? Wait and see if someone catches him, and comes running to make my stay here far worse? No... pee, first._

She had relieved herself and downed a liter of the still-slightly-cold water (mouth actually touching the bottle because what the hell) when it struck her:

She hadn't thought _once_ about the null field since she woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a) Spanish language disclaimer blah blah 100% my screw-ups blah blah.
> 
> (b) i've been editing, tightening Chapters as i go. i didn't begin this fic with the expectation that it would end up being 50K words, but i appear to be headed there.
> 
> (c) i trained karate for 9 years. i'm a massage therapist. you hit a wall, you are definitely, um, stiff the next morning. but i'm a girl, so just guessing at the rest of it. still, this is James.


	6. Yet Another Bugaboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I always feel like... somebody's watching meeeee." ~ Rockwell

The added mechanical locks hadn't ever rattled without immediately being thrown open... until a couple minutes before she expected James to return.

She supposed there was a chance it was the Lieutenant, having difficulty because of his injury, but that didn't agree with how easily he'd unlocked and re-fastened them only a quarter-hour before.

Shepard rose to her feet, staring at the door. Her instincts screamed that this wasn't Vega returning, propelled her forward until she stood next to the wall. There was a chance that a three meter by one meter break in the null field might allow her to pull enough energy to do _something_ , if she could keep the door open. She tipped the chair over and positioned it in such a way that she could easily shove it forward. She cracked her knuckles, calmed her mind, and waited. Even if her biotics failed, there were always her fists. _Scream for me, and lay them out_ , James had instructed. 

_It will be my pleasure, Lieutenant_.

The locks rattled again, and a tenor voice cursed petulantly. She tensed up, because it wasn't Spanish, and she understood it; that particular act would have been very painful for his female parent.

"Give over, Wilcott," a raspy - but loud - voice ordered. "I don't think they _can_ be picked. But *I* can get them open." Shepard thought she heard some sort of cutting tool, like a tiny chainsaw, squeal into life outside the door.

"Sure he ain't in there?" the whiny voice - Wilcott? - asked somewhat uncertainly, "Hendriks said that he has a _thing_ for her, and you saw him - he's **huge**."

"I'm sure," the throaty voice maintained. The power tool whine couldn't mask the satisfaction in his tone. "I saw him go into one of the conference rooms; he was talking on his omni-tool to someone. We've got five minutes. Maybe ten. **Fucking** clasp!" Shepard heard the weird tearing noise at the same time the man swore, and wondered if the last lock was made of a material that had just broken the cutter. The man continued to swear a blue streak, so her odds were good. 

_Thank God._

"What the hell we gonna do now?" Whiny Voice whinged. Shepard disliked him on principle, since he'd insulted Vega, and was letting Raspy Voice do all the work. As well as take all the risk, of course, because whoever came through that door first was likely to get badly hurt, if only they realized it. Of course, she also disliked Raspy Voice, but if she could get off a Stasis field, she was trapping them both. And God help them if they were still in it when it imploded.

There was an abbreviated scream of frustration, and it sounded like someone punched the wall, or maybe threw a cutting tool to the floor. Maybe both. "GODDAMMIT," the lower voice grated. "One fucking lock left!" There was a pause in which she heard odd scuffing noises, as if someone was trying to pry the panel sideways to break the last mechanical barrier anyway. The door rattled again, but didn't budge. "Every fucking code and every damn lock except this one!" Someone - her money was on Raspy Voice - hit the wall again.

She guessed that was when Whiny Voice spotted Vega coming back. She heard him start to jabber insistently "Roy... _Roy_... ROY! Three o'clock!" the last was grated out, urgent.

" **FUCK** ", Raspy Voice swore. Faint, somewhere down the hall, Shepard guessed, she thought she heard James' voice yelling something. Likely for them to stop, because it sounded like they'd beat feet.

Someone or something snapped open the last lock with a loud mechanical _click_. Shepard sucked in a breath and prepared to shove the chair forward - just in case - which was why Vega nearly tripped over it, and only managed to avoid falling by grabbing onto her and the wall simultaneously. The heavy duffel bag fell to the floor with a thud.

" _Mierda!_ What the-" The Lieutenant surveyed the situation rapidly, broke off both moving and speaking. He pivoted and elbowed the door lock, face twisted with fury. "Good idea with the chair. I'd assumed they hadn't given you any furniture because you might do something like that, but one of the admins informed Hackett yesterday that you'd broken all your furniture. Now, to me, that says 'I'm royally pissed, but not serious about escaping.' "

Eliza nodded cautiously. She pushed back away from him and eyed his torso "How, uh, are you?"

Vega stared at her. "Shepard, those men nearly got in here. They had a mechanized hacksaw, so they knew about the exterior locks I added. They **waited** until Anderson returned my call and I walked into a meeting room to take it. They've been _watching_ this room. And me." James bit down on his anger, took a breath. "You're my priority," he turned to the wall, shoulders tightening visibly, "but I almost chased them down and wrung their necks. Probably still should."

Shepard snorted. "So you're fine. I mean, if you're thinking about going after two marines armed with power tools, with only a duffel bag, I gather you're feeling better."

Vega stopped glaring at the door and turned to face her speculatively. "Commander, the day I can't take down two average-sized grunts is the day I hand in my resignation." He arched a brow. "I'm starting to think that one of these days I'm going to have to prove to you that I can take care of myself." He reached up and bent over, stretching his left side. He didn't even flinch. "I'm OK, but I'm sort of regretting my scavenging trip. A few minutes less, and Anderson would have been calling me back in here." James blew out a breath. "Not that he said anything you would have wanted to hear."

Despite having steeled herself for just that news, her heart sank. Vega reached out and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder in response.

"Look, I brought more coffee, ration bars, even a few pastries that the minions weren't using at the time. Given that _someone_ in this place got bought, this is probably the last time I dare raid the mess anyway. I'll have to switch up the pattern. We might as well make the most of it."

Eliza sighed. "Do you think it's the bounty? Or something else?" 

James had turned and picked up the duffel. "Yeah, I think it's the bounty. Only a fool would believe that the Batarians would pay up if an _Alliance soldier_ pulled the trigger, but we've already established the fact that there are a bunch of stupid people staffing this place."

Shepard frowned. "But whoever is behind it - they'd have to have an escape plan in place, right? I may be a prisoner, but I'm theoretically a valuable military prisoner. I mean, they're not going to be able to assassinate me and disappear into thin air. There has to be a trail."

Vega was unpacking the bag and nodding at nearly every word she said. "Yeah, and since I didn't run them down and beat the information out of them, I'll need to start going through records to find it. Would help if I had the technical ability to hack their damn system, but I'll manage."

She blinked. "Uh, James? I hate to remind you of the obvious, but _someone here_ has the technical knowledge to hack their system."

Vega paused in the unpacking and looked up at her, assessing. "That would directly countermand my orders." He handed her the butterfly coffee thermos, heavy and obviously refilled, and said "Sip that, will you? It's hot. Also, I haven't had any time to check it. It came from the communal pot, though, so it should be OK. Then again, I'm guessing that some of the people here no longer care about not drugging _me_. In fact, they'd probably love to take me out." He turned to glare at the door panel and grumbled something in Spanish.

Shepard quirked her eyebrows "What did the door do to you?"

James had the good grace to blush. "I... uh... was thinking about what I was going to do to those two when I caught up with them, is all."

"The tenor, Whiny Voice, I think his name is 'Wilcott'. And, uh, Raspy Voice's first name is Roy. I didn't catch his last name. But Wilcott also mentioned having spoken to Hendriks, the man from yesterday. Twitchy Guard." What they'd mentioned Hendriks had said, Eliza kept to herself. 

James suddenly laughed loudly. "You nickname everyone too?"

"Too?"

"I'm usually the one doing that."

_Interesting._ She nodded slowly. "Not if I know someone's actual name, but as a way to remember them if I don't have anything else, yes."

"Ah."

"So... what did you say to the door?"

Vega, whose blush had faded, reddened again. "Uh... _Chinga tu madre_. It, uh, means..." He cleared his throat.

"I know _madre_. 'Mother', right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"And the verb? I assume it was a verb. It sounded like you were telling the door to go do something."

James arched a brow at her. "Shepard, if you know what I said, why are you giving me shit about it?"

Eliza grinned. "I wasn't, exactly. I guess I just put two and two together. I think the first man who was trying to break in - maybe Wilcott - said something very similar regarding the door."

James gestured for the thermos that she hadn't actually touched, took it when she offered it, unscrewed the top, and sipped. She made a wry face as she watched him, and he paused long enough to grimace back at her. "If you're going to start in on the 'gentleman' bullshit again, I'll take all the coffee and both pastries, and _you_ can eat the ration bars and drink water. Healthier for you, anyway." He waited until she gave him the expected disgruntled look, and then handed the thermos back over with a laugh. He scrounged two ration bars out of the bag, handed her the chocolate one. "Sit, eat, and tell me every word you remember, while I consider whether to **allow you to help** find their military records."

\--

"Roy Whittaker. Justin Wilcott. Maybe they met back in elementary school when the teacher forced the class to sit in alphabetical order." James had retrieved the omni-tool as soon as she broke through security, and was rapidly scrolling through military records.

"And Ira Hendriks. You saw that one, too, right?"

Vega grunted, still reading. While he was absorbed in the documents, Eliza snagged the last pastry and swiveled a bit to conceal the fact that she was draining the coffee. James started laughing, still thumbing through the file.

"What did you find? What's so funny?"

Vega's eyes met hers over the expanse of his forearm. He had parked himself in front of the door panel in the chair, while she perched on the edge of the mattress a couple meters away. "You. Dragging that box over with your foot and turning away to, what, try to disguise that fact that you were eating the last doughnut and drinking the rest of the coffee? As if I wasn't over here trying to figure out how to _get you_ to eat more without sounding weird, presumptuous, or pathetic. I was _this_ close to _begging_ you to take that doughnut." He tossed her the last ration bar, and she caught it. "Eat that too, while you're at it."

The ration bars were packaged in vacuum-sealed wrappers; very low risk. She would have been scarfing them right along if anyone had bothered to offer them.

"Begging, huh?"

James laughed loudly. His hand went automatically to his ribs, and then he let out a sigh. "Nice."

"I aim to please. In that vein, what do you want me to crack next?"

Vega arched an eyebrow at her double entendre, but his voice was mild as he asked "Are you one of those techs who ended up addicted to hacking?"

Shepard blinked innocently and chewed on the ration bar, observing the Lieutenant's feet rather than meeting his eyes. "Addicted? No."

Both of his eyebrows went up. "But you like it.... _a lot_."

"Uh... yeah, I guess."

James looked impressed. "So you just lied to me. If I'd actually handed over my omni-tool last night, you'd probably have broken out of here by now."

Eliza stared at him. "Of course not. We're waiting for Anderson and Hackett, remember? Plus, I mean, I'm decent, but I'm not Tali. Even Garrus is better at some functions than I am. But decryption..." she paused, thinking about it, then shrugged. "Yeah, I probably could have gotten out of here days ago, if they hadn't taken my omni-tool. Certainly before all the mech parts were added to the mix. I haven't picked an honest-to-goodness metal lock since Earth."

Vega's eyebrows rose even further. "You used to pick locks. You still hack files. Where is Saint Shepard, Savior of the Citadel? The one who rescued the Council even though it meant losing squadrons of humans?"

Eliza glared at him. "She's right here. And she took a lot of fucking flack from the Illusive Man for that decision, right up until she destroyed his precious Collector Base and explicitly left his service, **with** the SR-2, as a special parting gift." She gritted her teeth and then forced herself to relax. "But did I run with a bad crowd when I was a teenager? Yeah, for awhile."

" _Cabróna_ , James murmured, and before she could rip into him for not translating, he added. "Bad-ass. You're a bad-ass, Shepard."

She swallowed, tried not to blush. "Whatever. Point is, could I have gotten around the codes? Yes. Maybe even without the omni-tool. But the stuff they added yesterday is a wild card."

Vega stared at her, steadily, files forgotten. "*I* added."

Eliza blinked. " _You_ installed those?"

James slowly shook his head. "I had a tech do it, but I watched every second of it, and that last lock is something I acquired specifically for this job, a tungsten-titanium-steel alloy. I'd be fucking shocked if anyone here had something that can cut through it, and it can't be picked; it doesn't even have a keyhole." 

Shepard cocked her head. "So how does it open?"

Vega grinned. "Trade secret. I'll tell you once we're out of here and I'm fairly sure no one else is listening." He shrugged, "They agreed no video, but I pretty much expected them to bug this place."

"Ah," Eliza replied very slowly. "Yeah. I can believe that, too." She allowed her mouth to drop open as she considered the implications. "So... they know what happened last night. Why act like you could hide the fact that I-"

"- had a bad nightmare," James finished. "Well, because when you started screaming, I made sure you had privacy. I have a contingency, and it only seemed fair - and, uh, prudent - after you woke up terrified." Vega pointed to the corner of the room to the right of the tiny window, and put a finger over his lips. "But when I came back this morning, you were obviously awake and fine, so I let it drop." Left unsaid: 'and people were trying to break in. I wanted as much of that as I could get on audio.'

Shepard ran back through the timeline. They'd heard him reading porn out loud and flirting with her. They just didn't know why he was doing it. 

_Hendriks said he has a_ thing _for her._

They may have even heard him calling her name. But it sounded like he'd shut down the bug before he'd collided with the wall. _They didn't hear how much pain he was in when he woke up. Or the 'other problem'._

But now they knew she had helped him crack their file system, and that they were gathering data on the men who'd tried to break in here. Shepard cleared her throat.

"Do you actually think the people who run this place will care that some of their own may have just tried to kill me this morning?"

Vega grinned, the wide evil grin he'd sported at times yesterday. " _Chica_ , I'm **counting** on it. I'm hoping it will be the lever that finally gets you moved to an undisclosed location, since..." James broke off, and his jaw clenched.

Eliza nodded slowly. "Ah, yes. Anderson didn't have good news this morning, when you talked to him."

"No," James growled. "No, he didn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> readers: "WHEN WILL WE GET NOOKIE? NEED NOOKIE. Must get out of the Null Room! How else will the flirtation EVER advance??"  
> writer: "Uh... I don't think the flirtation really advances in Part 1. Remember canon?"  
> readers: "Wait, what? Canon? Who? Where?"
> 
> Disclaimer: Spanish is bad? All me. James seems wrong? Also all me. But I care less. Locks seem off? I did some metals research, but it's altogether possible that - had they acquired a diamond-tipped blade - W&W could have cut through anything. SO THANK GOD THEY'RE POOR.
> 
> in that vein, Hendriks, Wilcott, and Whittaker are mine, more's the pity. You can have them, though, for the low monthly payment of- actually, what am I saying? I obviously still need them for awhile.


	7. Food For Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vega has returned just in time to get himself in trouble again, and this time you actually get to listen to his thoughts as he does it. Probably for a few chapters. Of course this means you no longer know what Eliza is thinking, but you can suck that up, right?

If James were honest, he'd admit to worrying about the impression he made on people in general, and women in particular, more often than was healthy. He knew that sometimes he tried a _bit_ too hard to cover that insecurity with humor; it was difficult to resist using something that so often worked. Even his service record claimed he was "good at using humor to build camaraderie and inspire loyalty." 

He'd read that straight out of his file, on the way to meet Commander Shepard.

Of course, his records also claimed he "occasionally fails badly at correctly determining people's limits." _Yeah, well._

Vega had learned early in life that being larger than average (as well as heavily-tattooed) tended to inspire testosterone-laden shouting matches in other males. Sometimes shoving matches, as well. That was one thing; a fight he could handle. More problematic was the frank distrust - and sometimes outright fear - of women. Even women who _also_ seemed perversely interested in him, sexually. All the histrionics tended to complicate an assignment.

So there were fights, like the one he'd pretty much instigated on Omega, before Anderson showed up and shoved him into a back-room, telling him to sober the hell up because he was needed. _But shit like that happens sometimes, right?_ And then there was the weird fear-dance of female junior officers and some civilians.

But that morning he'd realized something surprising: he'd hadn't ever felt concerned about how Shepard saw him. From the first moment they met, and he watched her analyze the six men who'd entered her tiny, barren, cell - as if she was choreographing a fight in advance, exactly how to disarm and disable each of them - he knew she was different. Then she'd thrown her datapad - hard - at Admiral Anderson. As far as Vega was concerned, David Anderson moved like a military leader still in prime fighting condition; the type of soldier you didn't attack with anything short of a full shotgun and plenty of space to run away. Not to mention the perfect cat stance she'd settled into when he stupidly came charging back in after dinner, incensed that she wasn't eating. 

And of course there was the fact that she'd nearly killed him the first time he touched her.

_Even while they basically tortured her, she remained absolutely fearless. Well, except when it came down to whatever horrors are stuck in her head. I should ask, but I'm not sure I want to know. Got enough of my own._

James watched her now, reading that same battered datapad. He'd loaded the Magic Gunslinger Spaghetti Western novel onto it; her absorption in it was amusing. It was a small miracle that she hadn't flown into a rage when he reported what Anderson had told him that morning.

_"The Admiralty doesn't trust Shepard... yet. In addition, they are dismissing the notion of a serious threat to her life. The Committee has requested she remain in the brig for the full fortnight debrief."_

James had experienced enough of Commander Shepard in less than twenty-four hours to convince him that another week in the repression field - even with his vaunted distraction capabilities - would be seriously detrimental. He'd come out of that call so incredibly pissed, he'd slammed his fist downward on the conference room table, and actually felt his bound ribs creak with dismay. The wood had cracked slightly under the force, but he thought the odds were good that his ribs were still progressing in a better direction.

"So... " James cleared his throat. "Good, right?"

Eliza's eyes flicked to him, then went back to the padd. "Who lied to whom last night? I think you've read this before, know precisely how it ends, and could have fast-forwarded through much of it with 'Protagonists have amazing sex. Hero ends up enslaved.' Then gone on to the next chapter."

Vega snorted out a surprised laugh and then automatically checked his ribs. He feared he could really use another shot of medigel, and yet felt lucky he'd been able to scam the first one without anyone finding out. 

"Guilty as charged. But, really, it wouldn't have been prudent to bring a new novel with me. Might have sucked. Then we both would have been bored. Nothing's worse than a long night of guard duty while bored out of your skull." James carefully pointed up to the ceiling by the window, reminding her of the bug.

Eliza rolled her eyes and went back to the datapad.

 _Dios, I've been replaced by porn._ This was Not OK.

"So, while we agreed last night that particular novel is... _distracting_ , I really expected we might have had a visit by Hackett or Anderson by now. Don't you think we should talk about a next step?" Shepard kept reading for another minute, then slowly raised her eyes to his. 

"Lieutenant, this is the first time in almost a week I haven't wanted to scratch my eyes out to stop my brain from itching. It's the first time in almost that long that my head hasn't been pounding with pain when I stand up. Or sit down. Or break all my furniture in a fit of pique. It's the first time in four days I haven't been so hungry that I can feel my body digesting my organs. It's the first time in two days I haven't been so thirsty my mouth is constantly a little dry. So, yeah, I'm just enjoying reading this drivel and not thinking about _anything_ real for a half-hour."

Vega found himself wincing as her recitation went on. Yeah, they'd tortured her, pure and simple. Hackett knew it, had to know it, once he'd seen her yesterday. They'd used the fact that she was a biotic, and therefore unholy dangerous, as an excuse to drug her and examine all the Cerberus implants. They'd effectively starved her. _I would have broken a lot more than furniture by now._

He sighed. "I think I should call Hackett. I don't want to leave this _room_ , let alone the facility, so tracking him down is out of the question. But I'd also like our communication to be somewhat private." James arched both brows, and did something with his omni-tool that made the display flash a vibrant red. He looked back over at her. "I can't believe you'd throw me over for porn. I'm WAY more fun than Blake."

He watched her try - and fail - to prevent a laugh from escaping. She glared at him, then the glare seemed to soften. "So we're OK to talk?"

"For a minute, while this thing tries to reach Hackett."

"Give it to me straight: Are. You. Healed?" Her gaze was serious.

Vega considered what to say. Unwilling to lie; just as unwilling to either admit weakness or let her continue to feel responsible for something he knew was his fault. "The ribs aren't _quite_ a hundred percent," he admitted. "The shoulder is loads better. I can fire a weapon if I have to, but my right side hit the backstop at thirty kilometers an hour. Honestly, I'm pretty happy I didn't puncture a lung." He stretched again, carefully. "Hell, considering what _could_ have happened, I'm _great:_ alert, walking around... and I'll live to eventually try that thing on page one-seventy-eight."

The look on Shepard's face went from regretful and repentant to downright annoyed by the time he'd finished. Which... was what he'd intended.

Vega's omni-tool flashed with an incoming transmission not even a minute later. He keyed in a security code, hopefully too rapidly for the Commander to remember all the characters. 

Over the speaker, Hackett was proceeding to alienate the room with a taciturn initial greeting, immediately followed by reprimanding the Lieutenant for his extensive use of the jamming software.

Shepard looked slightly shocked when James chose to interrupt the Admiral. Or maybe she was thinking of all the times he'd interrupted _her_. Yet, as far as James was concerned, all he was doing was following the orders he'd been given by Anderson.

"Admiral, with all due respect, I don't think the severity of the threat has been properly conveyed to the Defense Committee," James said patiently. "Shepard has occasional night terrors. " He glanced over at Eliza, but she'd smoothed all expression from her face, and was looking at something beyond his head. "I left her _finally_ asleep again - you do remember you both ordered me to make sure she ate and slept? - for _maybe_ twelve minutes, and when I got back to her _cell_ " - Vega stressed the word and made it sound faintly accusatory - "there were two enlisted men: Private Justin Wilcott and Sergeant Roy Whittaker, attempting to break into the room. When I realized the level of noise they were making - as I ran down the corridor, I observed the Sergeant punch the wall at least once - I assumed Shepard must have awakened. I immediately re-initialized the recording device, and was in time to get part of their attempt _on the record_." James paused for breath, his eyes glued to Eliza's, watching her carefully for a sign she might be thinking about making a rebuttal to his creative interpretation of events. He was relieved when her gaze met his and she nodded, slightly.

_At least she trusts me enough to read the play and handle it._

In the grainy holo, Hackett pursed his lips. "We're investigating that recording, Lieutenant, as well as several suspicious _file breaches_ the facility's security team identified earlier this morning." James couldn't tell whether Hackett was more pissed or amused. Maybe he and Anderson were always both, when dealing with Shepard.

"We had to find out more about the suspects, Admiral," James reasoned, "and *I* wasn't about to try breaking into their security system. The last tech class *I* managed to pass was 'How to Use Your Omni-tool in Zero G'."

Hackett's face twisted still further. Vega would have bet money the Admiral was trying not to laugh. For his part, James was grateful he'd managed to stop the diatribe about the bug (because he was in no way sorry it had been rendered ineffectual all night, no matter what that looked like to The Powers That Be), but he was torn about using humor to do it. Facility staff trying to break into Shepard's cell, with weapons, while he was away, wasn't funny dammit.

While James mulled this, Hackett began speaking again. "We're looking into it, Lieutenant. You have my word on it. As far as leaving there - don't. We'll have provisions brought in. Am I correct in assuming that this call isn't being recorded, and that the special lock you had installed held? That all the swearing on the transcript was because their tools broke?" 

James nodded distractedly, then realized he needed to verbalize. "Yes, Sir. There's a high probability that _no_ one can get in here right now."

"Good. Just sit tight, Lieutenant. And Commander-" Hackett pivoted slightly on the holo, as if he could somehow see Shepard if only he leaned forward and turned enough. James obliged him by shifting until Eliza was just to his left, and likely visible to Hackett. "As much as I appreciate your attempt to help the Lieutenant track your attackers, leave his omni-tool alone." Hackett lowered his voice. "Shepard, please, just ride this out. We're doing everything we can to both stymie the idiots at the facility who thought your surrender meant they'd make a quick half-million credits, **and** convince the Defense Committee that you will come back to work with a better will if only they stop trying to torture you into it." His voice softened further. "I promise I'm doing my best, Eliza. It won't be another week. I **swear** it."

Surprising both Hackett and Vega (who just stopped himself from jumping as badly as Twitchy Guard) Shepard spoke up. "I don't know _what_ to believe any more. But if I'm going to be stuck in here for even a few more hours, you need to send over something _decent_ to eat. For us both. I want a tray of macaroni and cheese and a dozen chocolate-chip cookies. I _might_ share some of it with Vega." 

She looked over her shoulder and arched an eyebrow at James.

_That's right. She can do that, too. That's... hot. Focus, dammit._

"Burritos," he blurted out. "Uh, beans, meat, cheese: the works. Three storefronts down from the diner that does the mac-n-cheese trays there's a Mexican place that does decent burritos. Whoever you send can pick it all up and be back here in twenty minutes once the food is ready."

He watched Shepard blink in surprise, and then her eyes narrowed. She spoke sotto voce "I'm going to want some of those burritos."

He shrugged, and lowered his voice in turn. "I'd already decided I was willing to fight you for some of the mac-n-cheese, so that works."

The holo image fluttered as Hackett bent to the side, writing, and then came back. "Children... please." He raised the hand holding a stylus to his forehead and muttered "I can't believe I just wrote down a food order like a waiter in New Chinatown. And I can't believe I'm about to ask this, either, but what to drink?"

"Coffee," Shepard said succinctly, at the same time Vega said "She wants coffee, but we'll _need_ more _cold_ water. And they have to have someone bring a new porta-john when your guy brings the food, if we're going to be sharing the facilities." Out of the corner of his eye, James saw the Commander's mouth drop open slightly. He figured she'd been so enraptured by the idea of food, she really hadn't thought through the logistics of both of them being locked in here together.

_¡A la chingada! This was going to be fun... not._

\--

"So... Truth or Dare."

She didn't even look up from the Porn Datapad this time. "No."

"Chicken?"

He saw her jaw tic, and wondered if it could _possibly_ be that easy.

"No. Not interested."

_Not that easy after all._

"We have at least another hour stuck in here waiting for food, and I'm bored out of my skull, trying to distract myself from having to urinate and figuring _maybe_ I can make it until the food arrives, and _maybe_ Hackett will send someone I trust enough to leave with you while I go use a restroom out _there_ ," he flung a hand toward the door. "I figure the _least_ you can do is distract _me_ for a change."

_Second choice... will guilt work?_

Shepard sighed loudly and flung the datapad down onto the mattress. "Fine."

_Bingo._

"So, truth or dare."

Eliza all but rolled her eyes at him. "Truth, of course."

James rolled his eyes back at her and muttered "Chicken" again, under his breath, and nearly laughed out loud as she bristled. Then he asked "OK, so: was Hackett right when he said you were almost half-machine? How strong are you, exactly? And how fast? It seemed like you were trying to hide it at first, but you kept slipping up and I got curious, so I exaggerated having an issue with standing up alone, and you zipped forward before I could blink and pulled me to my feet with no strain at all. You're considerably enhanced, right?"

Shepard shook her head slightly in confusion, and he saw her jaw clench.

_Man, way to sound like a cross between a creepy stalker and a fanboy, Vega. Or... like the guard assigned to watch her trying to figure out if he can actually take her down after all. Stupid waste of a question._

But he'd been _intensely_ curious about it for nearly twenty hours now.

She finally opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Her brows furrowed. "I have endo-skeletal implants for added bone density, muscle tissue striation improvements, and superior circulation, including lungs and kidneys. My healing is far more rapid than a normal human's, but even my skin underwent grafting to more quickly repair the burns." She swallowed hard. "And I suppose it doesn't matter if they record all of this, SINCE THEY NO DOUBT HAVE EVERY CENTIMETER OF ME SCANNED BY NOW." She yelled the last part directly at the ceiling bug, and James winced. 

"My reaction time may be two or three times faster than an average human. Mordin wasn't certain what 'human normal' should actually be, and he ran the most scans on me. At least four times as many as Dr. Chakwas ran. AND HOPEFULLY DOZENS MORE THAN THE ASSHOLES HERE." Again, she elevated her volume significantly and raised her face to the corner by the window.

James bit his lip to keep himself from laughing, reminding himself that this, too, wasn't actually funny.

"I'm 'normal' human female Marine strength... plus approximately one-half. So benching sixty kilos instead of forty-five, that sort of adjustment. I can easily shoulder carry _most_ fellow soldiers." She eyed him and snorted. "Most."

Again, James bit his lip. Didn't laugh. He nodded, instead. Watched as her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Truth. Or. Dare."

James smirked. She thought she could intimidate _him_?

 _Oh, cabróna, are **you** barking up the wrong tree_.

"Dare." He said it so emphatically, he was afraid he'd follow it up by laughing in her face.

But Shepard never flinched, never reacted beyond a slowly-widening grin.

_Uhhhh._

"All right. I dare you to give me **all** your burritos when they get here. And anything else out of the order that I decide I want. If you want something to eat from _my_ food, you can ask me nicely - **very** nicely - and I'll decide if you can have it."

James felt his mouth drop open. _That... little..._

 _"¡A poco! ¡No mames! Que huevos_ , Shepard!" James heard himself lapse into his native Spanish and didn't bother to either stop himself or translate.

"Problem?" She was looking at him innocently, soft lilt in her voice, and he wanted to wring her neck. He made himself take a deep breath. Something was nagging at him, and he played back the specific words she had used. _Ahhhhhh._ He felt himself smiling, figured he probably looked slightly scary, and didn't fucking care.

"No problem. Truth or Dare?"

Now, most soldiers in barracks agreed that once _one_ Marine took a Dare, it was Dares Only from then on out. He supposed he'd counted on it. As he watched Shepard struggle with that unwritten rule, he judged the potential loss of his burritos _almost_ worth the cost.

She finally grudged "Dare, I guess."

The feeling of satisfaction was so intense it was almost sexual, but he checked his fantasies at the door. _Not now, idiot. She's got enough to worry about without that damn bug picking up you asking her to show you her underwear or something equally hormonal._

"What chapter are you on?"

He watched her frown in confusion, and then her eyes darted to the pad on the mattress. "Uh... I think... eight?"

Vega grinned. "Perfect. You should be caught up to my re-read after dinner, and you can read Chapter Twelve out loud to me. Fair is fair; I read for you."

Eliza's jaw dropped. She snatched up the padd, and Vega watched her thumb through the chapters, knowing that at any second she'd realize-

"I am NOT reading this out loud to you."

James pasted an affronted look on his face. "Hey, you chose Dare. As potential Dares go, this one is pretty tame."

He watched her skim through the file, and saw on her face exactly when she put two-and-two together. Her eyes flew to his and she said in strangled voice. "Page one-seventy-eight isn't humanly possible."

"See?" he gestured, both palms up. "I gave you an _incredibly_ easy Dare. I only told you to _read_ page one-seventy-eight, not act it out."

Shepard's glare would have taken paint off a wall, and James finally let himself laugh, unreservedly. He stopped being afraid that he was about to pee his uniform simply because he didn't want her to have to suffer the further indignity of having their individual privacy ripped away, or resorting to covering her ears like a child in an attempt to NOT remember she was basically being kept like an animal in a cage and had acquired another animal cage-mate.

_I can do this. I've held onto it way longer than this, in the field. This will be a cakewalk. Dios, let Hackett send someone I can leave here._

_And please let me still be able to walk when they arrive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¡A la chingada! ~ Fuck it.  
> ¡A poco! ¡No mames! Que huevos ~ Seriously? Stop bullshitting me! The nerve! (or, uh, balls)
> 
> Truth or Dare is always a classic in fiction. lots of exposition, but get it out in dialogue. fun. at least i hope you had fun.
> 
> as always, comments and kudos make me write faster.


	8. Room Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vega's POV, again. Physical healing, more rage, more disappointment, some sadness, food, and (eventually) two physical workouts. The topsy-turvy world of Truth or Dare.

James glanced at his omni-tool _again_. It had been over an hour since they'd spoken to Hackett. _What. the. **fuck**_.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced back at Shepard. She read on, unaffected by the wait. "By the way, I owe you a Dare." 

"Yeah, you do."

James blinked in surprise, realizing she wasn't pissed enough at him to shut down again. Good. "So?"

Eliza shrugged and went back to the datapad. "I'll have to think of a good one." James watched her angle the screen away from him and begin typing on it. 

Vega debated teasing her for needing to write down 'Think up a good Dare for James', but before he could comment on old age and failing memory, someone pounded on the exterior door. A voice Vega could have sworn was Anderson's yelled "SOMEONE IN HERE ORDER ROOM SERVICE?"

James carefully got to his feet, moved the chair out of the way, and hit the panel with his hand. He glanced back at Shepard in time to see her observing his movements closely, probably trying to figure out _how_ he was making the lock fall open from the inside. He smirked.

 _You're SOL, cabrona. Well, unless you think to slice off one of my body parts and use it to pass the DNA sensor. Huh. Maybe I_ don't _ever tell you how it opens._

Almost before Admiral Anderson fully entered the room, James informed him that he needed to run out for a few minutes and wash up. Anderson looked puzzled, put the stuff he was carrying in a corner, and then looked around the room, perhaps actually _seeing_ it for the first time. His gaze lingered on the porta-john. His mouth twisted and he nodded at Vega "Go. I'm not leaving. And the private isn't coming in." James leaned forward through the doorway and noted a medium-sized, dark-haired, enlisted man lurking in the hall. A man who was loaded down with even more boxes and bags than the Admiral was carrying.

"Should I wait and lock you in, Sir?" James met Anderson's eyes steadily, encouraging him to choose wisely.

The Admiral evinced surprise, then his mouth quirked. "Yeah, why not. If you think it's a good idea. And, as badly as you have to visit the head, you _must_ think it's a good idea. Although... part of what I came here to tell you is that we're fairly certain we have all the people involved in this little coup under surveillance. Still-" Anderson went to the doorway and retrieved the second set of packages from the private, who saluted and pivoted away. "Ten minutes," he called after the man, who stopped, swung around, saluted again, and left. "You too," he told James.

James also saluted. "Ayeaye, Sir." He waited until the door slid closed, engaged the lock, and took off at a modified run through the hallways, until he found the bathroom he was coming to think of as "his." It was right across the hall from Level Four medbay, which he made up his mind to raid again. But first, absolutely, find a urinal.

\--

The two techs on duty were in the back of the medbay, consulting over what looked like the same detainee they'd been observing that morning. James felt a familiar flare of anger, picturing Shepard in his stead.

_Pinche pendejos. They obviously don't understand what they did was utterly wrong, but they also have no idea how lucky they were she didn't wake up mid-procedure._

Their idiocy, however, was his gain; he slipped over to the dispenser on the wall and grabbed another shot of medigel. He pocketed it and took it back to the bathroom, stripped off the length of tattered sheeting he'd used to bind his ribs, and then sank the stim directly between his last attached right rib and floaters.

 _And this is why everyone gets medic training: in case a bad-ass biotic having a nightmare slams them into a wall._

\--

James got back to the cell door exactly ten minutes later; the private was already there waiting. He was standing next to a five-foot long table, an extra chair, a suspiciously-thin rolled up mattress, and a stack of various linens.

"I'd see if you can get her to flip for who has to sleep on it," the private suggested in a low voice. "It's awful. Shepard had actual furniture at first; the entire place was set up nice. It just, uh, didn't last. Still, her mattress is loads better than this one." He managed to sound both awestruck that Vega was sleeping in the same room with the famous Commander Shepard, and sympathetic that it was going to be a shitty night's sleep.

 _If he only knew how shitty LAST night's sleep was, he'd realize this is an upgrade._

And then it hit James: they weren't being transferred tonight. 

_Que madres - **not again.**_

He flipped the chair upside down, slid it onto the table, laid the mattress, sheets, and blanket on top of the chair rails, and hefted it all against his chest.

"That'll be all, Private. If Anderson needs you again, he'll call Admin."

The dark-haired man observed James deadlift fifty kilos easily, and a small half-smile came and went on his face. Then he nodded, snapped a salute, and walked off again.

James took a deep breath, elbowed the activation square next to the new, shiny, nigh-impregnable lock that had likely saved Shepard's life, and watched as it clicked into the "off" position, allowing the door to side open.

Laden with housewares, he walked straight into a fight.

\--

"You _really_ want to know how much damage I can do without an amp?" The Commander's form curled like a wave as she swung around to face Anderson. Her face was caught between a frustrated snarl and impossible anger. Her voice grated like stone underneath a mech. "I was THIS CLOSE-" she held up her left hand, thumb and index finger a half-inch apart, "to completely _losing_ it when you gave me Vega. He's been incredibly _helpful_. And STILL I managed to-"

As "managed" came out of Shepard's mouth, James let the furniture fall to the floor with a lot more force than necessary, effectively cutting her off before she accidentally outed herself. He coughed, exaggeratedly, and was gratified to not even feel the tiniest bit of pain in his ribs.

"OK," James said calmly. "I gather the Admiral just informed you we're not going anywhere tonight."

He watched in amazed horror as Eliza's expression blackened even further. She glanced at the furniture he'd brought in, and comprehension settled on her face. She sucked in a breath, and Vega guessed she was about to _really_ let them know what she thought.

"Hey, _cabrona_ ," he interrupted, stepping closer to her. He was almost, but not quite, into her personal space. He gestured to Anderson. "This is the guy who brought you food. Remember, we don't gut the people who give us decent, drug-less, food? Especially cookies. And I imagine your cookies are in there." He turned to Anderson, who seemed almost shell-shocked at the enormity of sheer rage coming off of the Commander's slender form. " **Right?** "

Having a question directed at _him_ seemed to jolt the Admiral out of his frozen state. "Yes. Not just cookies - other stuff, too. I had our man clean out the diner's bakery." He looked past Shepard for a moment, almost as if he felt badly about the bribery. "I hoped..." he cleared his throat. "Liza, _one more night_. Hackett is meeting with the Defense Committee in person after the dinner break. Use today to talk about what happened these last few years. Just.... feed them information through the vocal monitor. I'll be meeting with some people privately before the general meeting - people who know what we went through with Saren, who _believe_ me about the Reapers. Whether or not you get out of here will likely come to a vote tonight. **You want that vote to go your way.** "

The dark look on the Commander's face didn't shift by much, and she muttered "You forget; I was _dead_ a lot of the last few years."

Anderson sighed and shook his head. "You know what I mean." He looked at James. "Both of you, _try_ to be on your best behavior? Be polite to each other," a thought seemed to occur to him, "AND to the people listening to the cell." 

_Sounds like someone already gave him an earful about Shepard yelling at the ceiling and calling the administration 'assholes'._

The Admiral turned, took the step that put him at the door, and seemed confused when it didn't slide open. James side-stepped twice and hit the door lock. He murmured under his breath "Don't let her down, Sir. I told you earlier that the improvement brought on by distraction, food, and a bit of sleep is _temporary._ I don't know many biotics, Admiral, but the two I do know _both_ warned me that they would have cheerfully killed someone rather than be stuck in this room a week."

Anderson eyed James dubiously. "When did you contact them?"

James stepped out into the hall, perforce to drag the Admiral with him and further clear of Eliza. "Last night while the Commander slept, _after_ the night terror. They said the same thing Alenko told you: this confinement is a horrible idea, getting worse by the hour."

Anderson looked grim as he turned away and started down the hall. James went back into the room and locked the door. He turned to see that Shepard had grabbed one of the bags and retreated to her mattress. She was poking at the stuff in the bag desultorily. Her eyes were so sad that James' heart nearly broke.

_**Dios** \- Hasta la madre! If they don't fix this tonight, I may take matters into my own hands. Let them try and catch us._

James sighed and dragged a chair over to her mattress. He sat down (carefully, out of habit, then remembered he was healed) and eyed her doing almost exactly the same thing she'd been doing when he'd entered her cell a day earlier.

_Has it really only been a day? In **dog** years, maybe._

"I know this is a blow, _chica_. I get it. But fifteen minutes ago you were really looking forward to having a late lunch, finishing the novel, and thinking up a Dare to get back at me. So, can we just eat this stuff while it's still sort of warm?"

Light green eyes rose to his face, and his heart lurched. She was so very beautiful; he'd never noticed it while watching her killing Geth in the vids. Her face was heart-shaped, delicate, and faintly freckled, the expressive jade eyes thickly lashed, and outlined in what had to be permanent eyeliner tats. Her hair was a glorious color, tendrils - escapees from a red-gold braid - coiling over her forehead and ears. She wasn't small, but there was something about her that underplayed the energy within, almost as if she was concealed by a thick cloak. Only anger and sadness seemed to leak through it, but they brought her vibrantly to life.

She'd gotten angry at her mentor to hide it from him, but Anderson's visit - and lone departure - had apparently devastated her.

 _Madre de Dios. OK,_ don't _touch her. She needs a distraction. To laugh, if I can manage it._

"What were you talking about after I left? What set that off?" James casually nabbed the bag Shepard was holding, right out from under her lax hand, took a random bakery item out, and just held it, waiting.

"That's _my_ cookie." Eliza emphasized her ownership, but otherwise didn't even raise her voice. Her eyes met his, flashing a warning. "Remember?"

Vega glanced down at the chocolate-chip cookie in his hand and feigned shock "It is? I assumed that - after Anderson failed in nearly every way, and his visit devolved into angry threats and then a lecture - you probably weren't in the mood to keep your word." James paused, then very casually added "Or maybe too chickenshit after all."

The jewel-like eyes glittered dangerously. Vega actually felt a frisson of... concern?

"On the contrary," she grated. "I traded Truth for that cookie. For ALL the cookies. For _everything_ , in ALL the containers. It's _mine_ , and if you want it, you have to ask me _nicely_ if you can have it." She had swiped both cookie and bag from his hands, and dropped the former back into the latter, almost before James had realized she'd moved. He started to laugh.

" _Cada chango a su mecate_ ," James said smoothly. He slowly stood up, and turned back to the table. Waiting.

Behind him, he could almost hear her gnashing her teeth. " **Translate.** We were _supposed_ to be **polite** to each other."

He laughed again. "It basically means 'to each his - or her - own.' It seemed appropriate."

Shepard snorted. It wasn't a laugh, but he'd take it. As he checked over the contents of all the bags on the table, he found himself duly impressed: Anderson and Hackett had outdone themselves. One of the larger bags was ALL burritos, and the outer wrappers had codes written on them; he assumed to identify the contents. His mouth watered.

"He asked me if you were... if you'd..." She stopped. James looked over at her in time to see her mouth twist with renewed anger. "He intimated they were concerned you had taken advantage of me. It pissed me off. They have the _gall_ to act like they're so damn worried about me being... abused... but the _Committee_ orchestrated all of this: made me helpless and allowed the techs to ACTUALLY abuse me. _They_ didn't do a damn thing to stop it. It's been _days_. You've been nothing but helpful and protective, and I told him that." Eliza tilted her head, considering. "Even though you're also kind of a prick."

James felt his mouth fall open as she reiterated what Anderson had said, and his jaw contracted when she got to 'advantage'. _**Joder**! ¡Puta madre, Anderson!_

He let his jaw relax as she finished, and even forced a chuckle at her gibe. "I see." He looked around the room, somewhat at a loss. "Evidently this is the result of the listening device being deactivated all night?" Eliza shrugged. James felt his jaw start to clamp down again. "*I* think you deserve privacy if you're going to have screaming nightmares, but I gather I'm in the minority?"

Ironically, it seemed Shepard had calmed down more than he had. "Why would they want to start respecting my privacy now?" she inquired rhetorically. She bolted off the mattress and plunked down into the new chair, drew it up to the table, and pried open the large cardboard box that had been among the first things Anderson carried in. "Awww. Hell, yeah."

James blinked. Then the smell hit him, and his stomach rumbled loudly enough that Shepard looked up from her prize and _laughed_ in his face.

"Awww. That is a sad, _sad_ noise." 

Despite how angry he was at the entire situation - being hand-picked for this assignment, briefed as to his special qualifications, doing his OWN legwork on how to make it safer (which turned out to be a good thing, dammit), succeeding in EVERY objective set for him against ALL odds... and THEN being accused of molesting his charge while she was helpless - he _had_ to laugh at the happiness in her voice as she taunted him.

_OK, then. Now or never._

Vega keyed in the code on his omni-tool that initialized the jamming software, watched the screen flare blood-red, and fell to his knees next to the table, right at Shepard's feet. He sat back on his haunches, caught her eyes with his, and raised his clasped hands beseechingly. 

"Oh, Mistress of Endowments, Provider of All Things Fair and Good, take pity on your humble servant, and allow him to share in your bounty. I am your willing slave; anything you want shall be yours. You have my undying loyalty, my unswerving devotion-" he couldn't hold back his grin any longer, wondered how evil he looked, "-any Blake-level attentions you could possibly desire-"

He watched with glee as Eliza's face flushed a red almost as deep as his omni-tool. He _had_ her. Of course, he hadn't _actually_ thought this through with respect to _himself_ , hadn't taken into account how being on his knees, face conveniently level with her groin, was going to affect _him_.

_Oops. Yeah, well. Hackett naked... Hackett naked..._

He was still trying to distract himself when Shepard scrambled out of the chair and retreated to her mattress, dragging the box full of mac-n-cheese with her. "OK, fine. You win, Vega. Eat whatever you want." 

James realized he was starting to pout, and bit his lip. Dammit, he'd _won_. **Now** why was he so annoyed?

\--

Vega had already unwrapped his first burrito when it hit him: he was no longer injured, and he hadn't had a workout in almost two days. He groaned, touched the burrito wrapper fondly, and flopped out of the chair to the floor.

_OK, two hundred of everything,_ then _food. Quick and dirty, but at least it's something._

He didn't even realize Shepard was watching him until he heard her say dryly "I gather you swung by medbay?"

James found himself trying to do pushups while his core contorted with laughter. "Yeah," he huffed, "they're not real observant down there. You know, unless they're prodding at someone under the lights."

He heard Eliza snort, and he spared a glance upwards toward the bed. She quickly looked back down at the datapad on her lap, but it was too late. James felt immeasurably cheered to be more interesting than porn again. Even, apparently, better than mac-n-cheese, since the fork had just been hanging there, full, in the space between the tray and her mouth.

\--

James had finished his workout, three burritos, the rest of the mac-n-cheese, and two cookies... and Shepard was still reading. He unrolled the extra mattress, beat the crap out of it against one of the chairs to see if he could fluff it at _all_ , made it up, and then settled onto it. He was disgruntled when he realized the the private had been right. _Reason number four hundred and twenty that this place is a shithole: camping mattresses._

He was seriously contemplating going back to the chair when he heard Shepard stand up. He lowered his omni-tool in time to see her grab the jug of water Anderson had brought, and carry it back to bed with her. His heart began to beat a bit faster. _**O. K.** Is she _really _going to go through with it?_

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" her voice was calm, controlled, in charge. Vega suspected this was the vaunted Shepard Command Voice. Again he felt that sudden thrill of danger. But... this was _his_ Dare, dammit. There was only one answer possible, and he gave it.

"Of course."

Eliza arched both brows as she did something to her padd. "Are you _absolutely certain_ you wouldn't prefer a cease-fire? You remember I still have a Dare coming, right?"

James felt himself smile. _Oh, sweetheart. Nice try._ "Bring it."

She didn't say anything more, simply handed him the datapad. On it, in a plain text file, was the note she'd typed earlier:

_**If I read Chapter 12 out loud, and you have the same problem you did this morning, you have to solve it immediately, in here.** _

Vega read through the Dare once, and was confused. On his second read-through, however, he felt himself go pale.

_Madre de Dios... **Ya vali madre.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, something's coming (so to speak). call me a tease, but remember we're sticking to canon (ish). Shepard's out of her head (literally), but not *that* far out. and Vega is informal, but not *that* informal. they will circle around to the ME3-starting relationship by the end of this fic (the plan, anyway). actual sex is out. and now, the translations:
> 
> Pinche pendejos ~ Fucking assholes  
> Que madres ? ~ What the hell?  
> Hasta la madre! ~ I'm utterly sick of this shit!  
> Joder! ¡Puta madre, Anderson! ~ Fuck! Shit, Anderson!  
> Madre de Dios... Ya vali madre. ~ Mother of God... I'm fucked.
> 
> by the way, it is not my intention to teach you EVERY Mexican Spanish swear word in the lexicon, but if *I* have to learn them for context, I figured you'd want edification. as I go along, i may not repeat every definition in "Notes" (eg "Dios", "Madre de Dios", cabróna, etc) so you may have to learn _some_ of them to make complete sense of the scene (or i suppose you could just intuit "Oh, look, James is swearing again.")
> 
> lastly, that "Hell, yeah" _is_ supposed to be a callback to a piece of Shepard dialogue in ME3 (bonus points if you can tell me where). you may get more snippets of it as the story goes on, though I most likely won't always point it out. just the first one i know i threw in on purpose because it seemed to flow.


	9. Ya Vali Madre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two more kudos (and the fact that I had this chapter outlined a few days ago) means a quicker post. if you've been reading, you know what happens in this section, but as a general warning for those who started the fic when there was nothing 'objectionable' in it: the first half-dozen chapters are indeed "Teen and Up". knowing what was in store, i changed the rating to "Mature" a week or so ago, and i may flip it over to "Explicit" at some point. and, well, that debate begins here.
> 
> also, short chapter. because, as James said early on, sometimes it happens fast.
> 
> lastly, we're back to Shepard's POV, but we'll be alternating (there's a pattern, believe it or not) until the end of the fic.

Eliza smirked as all the blood left Vega's face, savoring the feeling of victory. Maybe she'd had to push things _way_ further than expected, but it was worth it just to see his expression slacken with shock. Now he'd apologize - in a vague, The-Admirals-Are-Listening way - accept the cease-fire, and leave her the hell alone, to just be _angry_ at the world tonight.

Instead, James started to type. Shepard felt a flicker of unease. 

_Why would he have to **type** 'Cease-fire is a good plan'?_

He backspaced several times; she'd used the padd long enough to have memorized the keyboard layout. But even so, he finished writing quickly and handed the datapad back over. She glanced once at his placid face, and then read the message.

_**Fair enough, but if I lose/have to follow through, we definitely use the contingency. That is NOT something you want the Defense Committee to hear. I think you underestimate my control, but having to picture Hackett naked the entire time you're reading is going to throw a serious wrench into my enjoyment of your Dare, so congratulations.**_

Eliza blinked hard. Reread it. 

_**Fuck**. SERIOUSLY? What the HELL is he thinking?_

She met his eyes, crinkled with humor at her evident dismay, over the padd. She could feel herself start to lock down, prepare to fight on. _Bastard._ She rapidly examined the situation from multiple angles, looking for a solution, but could almost _hear_ him thinking "You plan to ever start reading, Chicken?" at her.

She grit her teeth. 

_Fine. Fuck him. Game on._

\--

Despite the excruciating embarrassment of having to read the lead-in to an explicit sex scene out loud, Shepard found herself getting into the story again. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ruby-red flash that meant James had jammed the listening device. His voice sounded a bit rough when he said "Stop."

She looked up from the datapad, confused. "I'm only on page one-seventy-three."

"I know."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not accepting a cease-fire NOW, Vega. I'm almost DONE with your Dare. And from the looks of it, you're going to have to pay up."

She watched him throw one arm over his face, then raise the other fist to smack the wall next to his mattress. "I'm well aware."

Eliza swallowed hard. What had seemed like a stellar idea in the heat of anger and mortification now seemed churlish, even a tad bullying. _Why the hell do *I* always have the fit of conscience?_

"Look, you pushed me. Pretty hard, actually." She sighed. "But I'm not going to make you go through with it, or mutter 'Chickenshit' at you if you don't. Trust me, I've been violated way too many times in the last few days to ever demand that of someone else."

James turned his head and regarded her. "I appreciate that. But I'm a poker player, Shepard. I bet, I lost, I pay up." He closed his eyes again. "Honestly, the most embarrassing part of all this is that if I started now, I'd almost certainly be done before you even finished the chapter. So you can stop and I'll pay up."

She felt herself blush again. "Oh." _Damn him._ Again, a light slap of guilt. "You're _sure?_ "

"Yeah."

Eliza gritted her teeth, tossed the padd to the mattress, and adjusted her position until she had a good view. _The hell is he making me feel so bad about his losing that I can't enjoy the fact that I **won**. He literally made his bed with all the bullshit._

The upraised fist slid sideways, and the light clicked 'off', plunging the room into near darkness. The ten centimeter-tall slit window, near the ceiling above the door, turned James into a dark shadow against a dim wall.

She sucked in an infuriated breath. " _You-_ "

The Lieutenant-shaped shadow chuckled. "You need to be more specific in how you word your Dares, _chica_. Luckily, I have this one in writing. Nothing in there about being able to **watch**."

Eliza drew in another breath... and slowly let it out. This absolved her guilt nicely.

"Fine," she pretended to grudge, "get on with it."

"Stellar invitation, Shepard," James snorted. "You that enticing with all your lovers?"

"You'll never know, Vega."

\--

At first, all she could hear was the whisper of clothing being evaded: a buckle clicked open, a length of leather snapped, a zipper pulled down, a rustle of cloth. In some ways, it was more erotic than actually being able to see. But it was also almost too intimate to be borne.

Eliza found herself holding her breath, hoping her artificially-enhanced eyes might adjust a bit more, thinking _As long as you assholes were rebuilding me from the ground up, being able to see in the dark would have been damn useful_. Still able to ascertain only the barest hint of movement on the mattress a couple meters away, she heard something new, unexpected, and it took her a second to identify it as the sound of someone spitting. She shifted against the wall as her imagination filled in the visual.

"Comment?"

She jumped, realized he must be watching her, as there was arguably a bit more illumination on her side of the room.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

He chuckled, then groaned. She jumped again, swallowing hard. He really was going to go through with this, right over there.

She pressed her back into the wall. It was insane to be thinking all the things she was thinking, and yet she couldn't seem to stop _thinking_ them, as his breathing shifted and his moans became more frequent.

_You don't have to just sit here You could turn on the light You could go sit closer He's at least a little attracted to you You could offer to lend him a hand, so to speak..._

More groaning. More rustling noises, and now the slap of skin on skin as the tempo of sounds increased.

_He's right there._

"Nothing in the Dare preventing you from solving your own problem, _cabróna_." His voice was lower than usual, and strained. "While the listening device is jammed."

Shepard jumped in surprise again; her skin went hot at his implication. 

"I don't have a problem." _Liar. You just **lied** to him, after all. After you told yourself you wouldn't._

She heard him laugh, and then he panted out "Yeah, right."

_He doesn't believe me anyway, dammit._

He groaned again, louder; the desperation in that sound scored a direct hit between her legs. She clenched her thighs together. She definitely had a problem, and the _most_ frustrating part was that she hadn't had this problem in what seemed like forever. Certainly before she died. The thing about getting your heart broken (and then stomped on) was that it tended to eliminate this problem. 

Until now.

He laughed again, breathing hard; his voice was rough and broken when he said "Seriously, sweetheart, there aren't many things that could get me to stop right now, but knowing you were trying to catch up would _absolutely_ be one of them."

Eliza bit her lip to keep from whimpering. _Jerk._ No way was she giving him that satisfaction. Damn him AND his teasing. And damn her for _suggesting_ this. What on _Earth_ had make her think he'd back down?

" _Dios_ " he forced out: part-whisper and part-grunt. " **Fuck**. Fuck. Fuck. **FUCK.** "

This was followed by a long string of guttural groans that slapped his audience in the groin again, and left Eliza wondering... how exactly had she _won_? Now _he_ was sexually satisfied, would probably be even more unbearably smug at her discomfiture, and _she_ was sitting here ready to chew a hole in the datapad.

"Mmmmmm." She saw and heard him shift on the thin camping mattress. His shadow semi-sat up and reached out towards the table. There was a scraping sound, a quick indrawn breath, then various setting-clothes-to-rights noises. She panicked, realizing there was no way she could bear to meet his eyes.

"Just leave the light off," Eliza calmly ordered. "I may... nap."

There was a pause, and then James began chuckling again. "My performance was so amazing I put you to sleep, huh?" He completely spoiled this pronouncement by yawning himself. 

\--

Not five minutes later, light snores gave Vega away.

 _That asshole fell asleep._ Eliza couldn't believe her ears. _He absolutely deserves to end up with his throat slit while he's unconscious._

She put down her datapad and half-crawled, half-stalked over to the thin camping mattress, and the large man curled up on it. She moved her hand through the air a few centimeters above his skin, evaluating the energy coming off him.

_He is **out**. With the goddamn damping field still active. And Anderson's one fucking request was to NOT turn off the damn monitor all day._

Shepard took a deep breath and endeavored to be more charitable. It honestly wasn't all that surprising that Vega had fallen unconscious after the twenty-four hours he'd endured in her cell. She'd added a significant amount of vexation to his current assignment with her behavior. Her only defense was that she'd been provoked, that she'd been ready to burst out of her skin, scratch at the walls, howl at the moon...

_Insert your favorite insanity metaphor here._

She didn't even debate a full minute before deciding to carefully Reave him into a slightly deeper sleep, wincing at the ridiculous effort it took, waiting for the headache.

Then she finally stole his omni-tool. _Hoo-rah for no cameras._

_Though... I'd give quite a few credits to have a recording of the last fifteen minutes._

\--

It was child's play to break his codes; Eliza realized she could probably call Hackett and yell at him now, if she truly had a mind to, but she couldn't bring herself to get this giant pain in her ass in _real_ trouble. She sighed, sent out two encrypted messages, considered sending a couple more, decided it was a bad idea, checked the newsfeed briefly, and realized the jamming frequency had been engaged almost a half-hour already.

_Fuck it. All right._

She cracked the password on the contingency and reactivated the bug. Then she carefully replaced his omni-tool and allowed the energy she'd stolen to slowly ebb back into him without triggering more than the barest twinge of pain in her temples. 

_Huh. Food and rest _are_ good for something. Who knew._

Vega rolled over in his sleep, grumbling, probably due to the thinness of the padding on his sleeping surface. Shepard crept back to her own mattress, finished reading Chapter 12, and seriously considered whether or not she should take advantage of his slumber to 'problem-solve', herself. Silently, of course.

 _ **Fuck**_.

\--

For the next half-hour, Eliza occasionally made curt comments about the book, and grunted noncommittally as if James were responding. She feared she didn't make a very convincing-sounding Lieutenant Vega, however, and wished she'd had the ability to record some of his voice on her datapad.

_Seriously, screw The Powers That Be, AND their paranoia, AND their 'the only microphone you get is in your ceiling' hardware._

Chapter 14 had taken an interesting turn, with the _bruja_ being captured by one of the bad guys, when Shepard realized that (even if she couldn't bring herself to do anything else) this was the perfect time to pee. She was gratified to have privacy for it, though she kept glancing over at James every few seconds, expecting him to awaken and make a smart comment.

Another too-quiet half hour slowly clocked by, and Eliza - who remembered him saying _"Not a great look in a guard"_ \- began to realize she should probably wake him up before he actually _did_ end up in trouble. 

She was careful, crouched away from his head, light grip on the near side shoulder, military-style.

Afterwards, Shepard could never be certain if he was just that fast, or if she had let him do it - but he woke, grabbed the hand on his shoulder, twisted, and rolled with her underneath him.

"What the _hell_?" They both said it at the same time, only James' voice was fuzzy with sleep, and Eliza's was high-pitched with surprise.

_Indoor voice, indoor voice. Bug operational. Jesus, he's heavy. And God... why does this feel so good?_

"James." She struggled to figure out how to let him know the listening device was active again, without _also_ letting the listening device know that she'd used his omni-tool. "Sorry I surprised you. You drifted off, and I know you said that you shouldn't."

Vega met her gaze steadily. The look in his eyes said a host of things Shepard figured would be bad for the Admirals hear. She was gratified to see him quirk an eyebrow, look down at his left arm, and then tilt his head in the direction of the ceiling. Relieved, she nodded several times. He sighed.

"How long was I out?"

For the bug she said "Not long", but also silently mouthed "Hour." His eyes drifted shut, and then opened again. He nodded.

His pelvis was still pressed diagonally against hers. His hands were still wrapped around her wrists. It felt... strangely right. And that had to be wrong.

"I'm up to Chapter Fourteen," she added inanely, loudly. "The witch just got captured by El Perro." She tried to unobtrusively slide her hips sideways, but sucked in a breath as he instinctively thrust against her to hold her where she was. 

Even James looked shocked by what he'd done, but he didn't immediately heave himself off of her. He just stared down into her face, body flexing ever so slightly.

"This isn't a battle I expected to be fighting today," he whispered. She realized he was sweating when his fingers slipped a bit on her wrists. Or maybe he hadn't cleaned them as well as he'd intended. And that thought ought to completely disgust her, but it really didn't.

"Me either," she breathed back, and suddenly realized they'd both acknowledged the attraction... AND the problem with it.

Vega swallowed hard and arched his hips into hers: slowly, deliberately. Eliza knew - absolutely knew - that this was dangerous and a horrible idea, and yet she couldn't keep herself from arching back, the slightest bit, sliding against him. His eyes slammed shut and he moved again, harder. So did she.

"You know she's going to escape on her own, right?" he said loudly. So softly she barely heard him: " _Dios_. This is a very. bad. idea." 

Shepard pushed back against him, feeling him begin to grow problematic again, needing him to grind that hardness against her, even if just for a few more minutes. Then they had to stop. HAD to.

_Just a bit longer. Even if never again. But_ Jesus _\- why him? Why here? Why now?_

She valiantly ignored the _other_ tiny voice in her head that demanded to know, _Why NOT?_

"I assumed she'd get free soon, yeah." Great, now they were speaking in _code_ , for Christssake. "But she seems to be learning new things in captivity."

James breathed out a laugh at her comment. He continued to thrust against her, both of them shuddering with the pleasure of it, for another minute, before finally rolling clear with an obvious wrenching effort.

He remained face down on the cold tile floor, not moving, and Shepard curled into a ball, holding her middle protectively. _Jesus. That... could have been incredibly good. And also insanely stupid._

"After she gets away, she evades pursuit by hiding what she's doing with magic," James muttered loudly into the floor. He turned his head; hazel eyes met green.

Eliza swallowed. It was a clear offer to jam the bug and continue where they left off. She counted to three, slowly, before shaking her head.

"Good. I want to think that Blake is waiting for her when she finally gets clear of El Perro." Her clear answer: 'I want to, but not now.'

_God, this sucks - it almost physically hurts._

She must have inadvertently hissed it out loud because she heard a snort, and then his voice grumbled softly:

"Tell me about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El Perro means "The Dog" (who i envision is the Witch's alternate - possibly darker - romantic choice) (and i'm ALMOST to the point of wanting to write the 'Bruja and the Gunslinger' story. almost.) (and yes, it is TOTALLY a satire of romantic triangle teen fiction) (plus, El Perro just sounds cool) 
> 
> some of you probably would rather i pushed on with this tale, however.


	10. Interrogatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James mentally beats the crap out of himself. Castigation, questions, and fall-out. And a new... friend?

James sat at the table, picking at a burrito, mentally thrashing himself.

_Pinche pendejo, **stop** thinking about how many times she moved against the wall, how loudly she was breathing, the fact that she never once looked away. You may really want to know how turned on she was, but you **know** better than to ask her that._

James winced. _And we both need to forget that you asked a superior officer - **twice** \- if she sure she didn't want to 'problem solve' along with you._

James was certain he'd had a better view of Shepard that she'd had of him. Maybe he should feel a little guilty for arranging it that way, but he didn't. It was a Dare; she'd proposed it, he'd twisted its execution to his advantage. She could have stopped him at any time by backing off. But she hadn't. She'd watched the _entire_ thing. That fact _ate_ at him.

And when she'd woken him up...

He knew that was the part that was actually bothering him: remembering Anderson's accusation in the light of what he'd done _after_ the Dare. _Had_ he ended up taking advantage of her after all?

He hadn't meant to grab her. He'd actually _promised_ to never grab her - at least to end a night terror - again. After knowing her only a few hours, if someone had asked him 'Vega, you think you're fast enough to pin Commander Shepard?', his reply would have been an incredulous ' **Fuck** , no."

Then... he'd ended up physically on top of her, in the most stunning reveal of his life to date, and he couldn't for the life of him forget the feel of those few moments, either.

_¡A la chingada! Need. to. NOT. think. about. it. De lengua me como un taco._

James listlessly chewed on his fourth sandwich, glad that he had something innocuous to put in his mouth.

 _She can still be surprised._ James felt a little bad for filing that information away, as part of his duty to keep her imprisoned. It felt like a betrayal: mentally noting information that might become important if she tried to escape. Especially since he'd considered _helping_ her escape, only an hour or so ago.

The thing was... she'd definitely nabbed his omni-tool and broken all his codes. He knew it, even though (once he'd finally crawled off the floor and into a chair) he'd gone through the file system and found no trace of her hack. He wondered if she'd sent messages, but when he checked the logs, there was nothing. Of course, it was also likely he wasn't tech-savvy enough to catch her.

Now, theoretically, she'd only swiped it to turn off the jamming software. And she'd let him sleep, yet not too long. He had a feeling she'd tried to make noises as if they'd both been awake, just absorbed in the novel. 

_I should have let her go immediately. I know that. Of course, she could have kicked me off of her, and she didn't. In fact..._

James clenched his jaw to prevent some inappropriate noise from slipping out, even as his mind played back how she'd moved with him.

 _Estás zafado, Vega_ , he told himself. _Hoy es un desmadre._

\--

Another hour passed with both of them pretending (at least on James' part) to be absorbed in the novel. It was mid-afternoon by the time James thought to contact Admin and ask them to bring a cooler with ice and leave it by the door. He cracked the door open, saw no one, and dragged it inside. He stowed the rest of the Mexican food, and some of Shepard's haul of sweets, inside it.

It was nearly O-sixteen-hundred before he started to wonder if he was going to get an update on Wilcott and Whittaker before the Committee meeting; that thought naturally progressed to his remembering that both Admirals had requested he get Shepard talking about her mission for The Illusive Man.

James had put this off, in part, because the very last thing he wanted to talk about was the Collectors. He had his own reasons to be pissed about their attacks, and - given his efforts toward stopping them had gone to hell in a handbasket - his own regrets as well. So he was loathe to press Shepard. But was he doing her a disservice, given the damn vote?

_I can probably get her to talk about Cerberus and her mission without ever mentioning Fehl Prime. Might have to lie, though. **Joder** , I don't WANT to start lying to her._

Of course, she'd lied to him about not having a 'problem'. He was almost certain. And he steadfastly refused to consider all the ways in which he could have found out the truth, if he'd had a few fewer ethics.

_Necesito pensar en otra cosa._

\--

"Seven arrests: two Marines, three facility workers, two techs." Anderson sounded slightly aggrieved. "The Marines are the only real loss. There's enough evidence to court-marshal them. We'll have an advocate go in, see if they'll take a plea and turn on the others. I refuse to enter a war short a bunch of soldiers because they couldn't turn down money, so we have to make an example of them. I'd like to do it in conjunction with a defense of Shepard, but first we need to get her out of prison."

"I assume the Marines were Whittaker and Wilcott?"

Anderson snorted, then sighed. "Jam the monitor, will you?

James blinked in surprise and typed in the code. All around the Admiral's holo, the screen flashed an ominous red.

"Wilcott is ours, Vega. Alenko recruited him over a year ago; he's a biotic. Don't know his training, except - obviously - espionage. Probably black ops." Anderson sighed again. "It was Whittaker and the one who volunteered to come in with us yesterday, ended up drawing his weapon? Hendriks."

James glanced over his omni-tool screen and met Eliza's surprised glance. They both arched their brows at the same time, and James wondered if she was as impressed with Wilcott's performance as he was.

_What had she called him? Whiny Voice?_

"I need to run if I'm going to check everything off my list before the meeting. Especially since one of my next stops is hopefully also _your_ next stop." Anderson's face, in the fluctuating hologram, was somber. "Shepard, if you're back to even seventy-five percent, get that unofficial deposition started. My tele-meetings have gone well, and I'll be in conference with the rest of my more _sympathetic_ colleagues from seventeen-hundred until the Committee meets at eighteen-hundred." Anderson sighed. "There is a _slight_ chance this could all be an unpleasant memory by twenty-hundred... but I refuse to raise your hopes again. Hackett is planning to swing by to spell Vega for a bit once the meeting is over, give you two a break from each other." The Admiral stood up and moved toward the door and his holo bounced along with him. He paused before exiting his office, and sternly glanced back at the screen, right at James "And there's a book I need to borrow, apparently, once this is over?"

James flinched, just the slightest bit, and met Eliza's eyes again. She - _malvado bruja!_ \- was striving not to laugh. He tried not to swear under his breath as he ended the call and un-jammed the bug.

\--

"I gather I'm supposed to spill my guts now? Were you actually planning on interrogating me, or are we sticking with the 'voluntary' story?" Shepard arched a brow at him mockingly.

James watched that eyebrow and tried not to squirm.

_That reaction could get... inconvenient. Especially if she figures it out. Or has she already figured it out?_

"I'll ask you questions if you want me to. I'm curious, obviously. I was on board the SR-2 last week; she's a sweet ship. That Cerberus basically built her for you after the SR-1 was destroyed says a lot." James grasped for an invitational middle-ground, wondered if he was failing as badly as he thought he was.

"Why were you on board?" The Commander attempted to sound disinterested, but Vega didn't buy it. The question alone betrayed how possessive of the Normandy she still felt. It impressed him all over again that she'd surrendered it.

_Madre de Dios, she must have been **pissed** when they threw her in here._

"Two days after you brought her in, they asked one of my mates to manage part of the retrofit. He wanted to see the ship before he agreed to the transfer. He brought me along to get my opinion on the armory, while he concentrated on an assessment of the flight deck and cargo bay."

He could see he'd impressed her, and that approval hit him like flash-fire. Then he wondered if informing her Alliance people were already mucking around in a ship she still considered **hers** was _really_ the smartest tack.

_Idiota._

"She _is_ a good ship. She's fast, cloaked to the hilt, has - or HAD - the best pilot in the fleet, and... a number of other surprises that I'm sure Command would be happier discovering on their own, rather than having me ruin all the mystery via taped testimony from my prison cell." Her tone dripped with sarcasm; it was light years away from the woman who'd grudgingly agreed to play "Truth or Dare" with him. Vega admitted to himself that - while he didn't miss 'Ready to Fight at the Drop of a Hat Shepard', or 'Throws People Into Walls While Unconscious Shepard' - 'Sexy Banter Shepard' quitting the field was a serious loss.

"So... tell me about the Collectors."

The Commander laughed bitterly. "Stellar segue, Vega," she taunted. "You that enticing with all your prisoners?"

James sighed. _Sexy Banter Shepard has left the building._

"You'll never know, Shepard."

\--

They spoke about her post-resurrection mission for almost two hours, and Vega only realized it had been two hours when his omni-tool interrupted him with the chime of an incoming call: Hackett, saying he'd arrive in ten minutes. James checked the chron: 17:40.

_Before the meeting? I wonder what changed._

"I wonder what changed?" Eliza muttered, echoing his thought. She'd gotten up to grab the water jug and gulp down a half-liter of fluid. She'd been doing most of the talking, and the throaty edge to her voice was more pronounced.

James shrugged, tried not to look worried. "I wondered the same thing, but I bet we find out as soon as he gets here." He cleared his throat. "Should I meet him outside so you can..." He trailed off, but tilted his head toward the porta-john.

She nodded gratefully. "Yeah, I've had to use it for awhile, but you kept asking me somewhat intelligent questions and I figured I might as well get this out of the way now."

James snorted at her jab. Yeah, he was middling at interrogation. When you could easily default to intimidation via size, why wouldn't you? In the case of Shepard, however, he'd been hoping his natural charm and curiosity might make a good substitute for cleverness and verbal dexterity. There was little hope his usual tactics would work: Shepard didn't find him in the _least_ intimidating, and she seemed to... _appreciate_ his size.

_**¡Basta ya!** , Vega. Hackett is like, almost right outside the door._

All of his instincts were screaming that she'd left _a lot_ out. He might not be the sharpest tack in the box, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened early on - after she'd met Tali'Zorah on Freedom's Progress, after she'd recruited much of her team, even... but well before she'd had the emotional backup of Dr. T'Soni. Something she'd faced pretty much alone that had... Well, he wanted to say 'nearly crushed her spirit', but that sounded too poetic for a prison guard. He snorted at himself just as the door chimed - and failed to open. Even with a high Admiral on the other side. He hit the panel with an elbow, and placed himself in Hackett's path as the older man would have charged into the cell.

"Shepard could use a... private minute. I told her we'd wait outside." James braced himself, wondering if _this_ was the time Hackett would finally lose his cool at being given orders by a Junior Lieutenant.

Apparently not. "Of course," Hackett replied, stopping just outside the door and swinging to his right. Vega exited and also swung right. The panel swooshed closed, and he ran a hand over the frame, listening to the sharp, satisfying, 'click' as the door locked.

"Is she any better?" Hackett gravely inquired, voice low enough that James had to strain to hear him.

"A bit," James responded, "We just went over a chunk of the mission brief you wanted. Tons of information about the head of Cerberus, some intel on her team, more information than I ever wanted to know about the Collectors and the base she destroyed." He met Hackett's eyes. "I understand why she has nightmares, now."

Hackett blinked in surprise and then his eyes narrowed in thought. "Is that all on the recording?"

James nodded. "All of it." He paused. "Except... I _suspect_ she cleaned it up for me, for the Committee, at least a bit. I don't think she... _sugar-coated_ it, precisely. But I think it was worse than she's letting on."

_Guapo cabróna está demasiado orgullosa de llorar..._

Hackett looked solemn, but satisfied. "I have all the reports she sent in as she collected that team. Everything very clinical and detailed as to how the Collectors operated - the drones, their paralytic serum, the transport pods, even what they were using the colonists _for_ \- but nothing kicks a bunch of recalcitrant Generals and Admirals in the... docket... quite like personalized, verbal testimony. If _you_ can tell that she's leaving out all the worst parts, so will the Committee."

James had another revelation. This man obviously respected the Commander, as both an individual and a military leader, but he was _eminently_ capable of using her for his own ends. Something inside Vega hardened, and refused to thaw when the Admiral asked how the food had been, the additional furniture.

"Sir, the food was exceptional. The furnishings are... adequate. I fear, however, that the only thing truly keeping the Commander functional is the belief that she's getting out of this place soon. They _can't_ keep her in there much longer. She-" James suddenly wondered if he'd made a grave mistake in covering up Shepard's out-of-control biotics. Had he made her seem too comfortable? Vega remembered vividly that he'd almost paid the ultimate price for her lack of control.

"She... what?" Hackett appeared nonplussed.

Vega sighed. "The night terrors are a concern, Admiral. I'm not altogether sure every piece of furniture in that room was broken... consciously. I have a feeling some of it was demolished... accidentally." A thought hit Vega like a flash of lightning, as he remembered the dark-haired private lurking in the hallway, and what he'd said about Shepard. "Is Private Wilcott really a biotic?"

Hackett's eyebrows came together and he gestured for Vega to lower his voice. "I assume Anderson told you?"

"Just shy of two meters? Average build? Dark hair? Very dark brown eyes? Italian or Greek descent?" James paused, then rolled his eyes slightly. "Wilcott even his real name?"

Hackett blinked in surprise. He cleared his throat. "When Anderson came back from Omega with you in tow, I admit I wondered if he'd made a grievous error... given the four separate disciplinary reports on you since Fehl Prime. But..." Hackett met James' eyes. "I understand now why he chose you." He snorted appreciatively. "Yes, all those things are true. He is currently undercover, so I highly doubt that Wilcott is in fact his real name." The Admiral glanced at the door, clearly a bit impatient. "Now tell me why it matters."

"Because he remarked on how nice the room was, at first. Because if I'd realized he was a biotic when he'd spoken to me earlier, I would have understood what he was trying to say." James blanched. "Admiral, Wilcott wouldn't even put a _toe_ inside that room, and you think Shepard's going to shrug off a _week_ in there?" Suddenly convinced that tonight could be Bad-With-A-Capital-B, Vega lowered his voice and nearly pleaded "Admiral, if they vote her down, take us out anyway. You don't understand how hard I had to work to break through, and she could go _loco_ again at ANY point."

Hackett slowly shook his head. "If we authorize her release despite a majority feeling she's still a threat, it's a court-marshal for sure. Tell her that if she can survive until they _vote_ her out of prison, she may retain her commission. I'm trying to do the absolute best thing for her, but also the entire damn planet. She has reserves of strength yet untapped, Lieutenant - remind her of that."

James, recognizing the order for what it was, clenched his jaw and nodded once.

_¡No chingues, Hackett - estás zafado. No soy el loco. You'll break her if we're both not careful._

"I'm already going to be late to this damn meeting," Hackett suddenly grumbled. "Do _you_ need to run to the restroom?"

James nodded, knocked loudly on the door, unlocked it, watched as Hackett entered, and relocked the door without ever asking the Admiral his opinion regarding being locked in.

 _ **Como agua para chocolate**_.

\--

Having basically committed the sin of kidnapping an Admiral, Vega made sure he returned in two minutes flat. And remembering her altercation with Anderson, James mentally prepared himself for anything before he slapped the activation square and walked in.

Hackett and Shepard were chatting as amicably as a prisoner and the man who sent her on the mission that resulted in her being imprisoned _could_ chat. When he entered, she obviously read the surprise and relief on his face, because she laughed at him.

"We don't gut the people that bring us food, remember?" She held up another new bag, one that James had been far too worked-up to notice Hackett holding.

Hackett looked confused for a second, but decided to roll with it. "I figured since you both knew that neighborhood, and I was taking food orders as if I worked there, I'd bring dinner."

James could smell it now. Vegetables and grease.

_Wonderful. Refried beans AND Chinese food. And a porta-john. Que está en mal estado._

\--

Vega estimated the Committee meeting couldn't go on much longer, and was considering calling for a rescue, when a fist rumbled against the exterior door, and a voice called out "Here to spell you, Lieutenant."

Now that it wasn't so low-pitched and soft, James easily recognized it from the recording he'd reviewed. As Shepard sucked in a breath, he realized she'd recognized it, too.

"He's on our side, apparently - remember?"

She nodded, but stood up and tossed the datapad down onto the mattress. James idly wondered if she was almost done with the novel.

He hit the lock, and the man on the the other side of the door backed up a meter. James observed the dark-haired biotic with new eyes, noting the easy stance, the relaxed-but-alert expression. The man smiled at him, and James' guard wobbled: wanting to stay up, but figuring that while he was in the Null Room and Wilcott was outside of it, he was basically safe from any sort of attack. Maybe the biotic's smile was genuine.

"Not gonna come in. No offense, Commander. I'd really rather not endure the null field. If _you're_ OK, your biotics are a hell of a lot stronger than mine." Wilcott's smile stretched into a full-blown grin. "Which would be in agreement with both the rumors and the scans." He bowed, quite low, to Eliza. Vega felt a faint stirring of jealousy and gritted his teeth.

_Si tuviera huevos, he'd be kissing her on both cheeks. Mierda._

Shepard inclined her head back at him - somewhat mockingly, Vega apprehended - and said "Whiny Voice. Nice to finally meet you in person."

Inwardly, James cheered.

Wilcott finched slightly, and the grin dimmed just a bit before flickering back even stronger.

"Kaidan said you were tough," he laughed. "I'm sorry about this morning. I tried to scare Whittaker off-"

"By mentioning how big James is. I remember." The corners of her mouth turned up, but James wondered if it was an actual smile. It didn't seem to reach her eyes.

Wilcott was nodding, unphased. "And I fiddled around with those damn locks as long as I could before he shoved me out of the way. 'Obsequious toady' makes an excellent cover, if you can pull it off. People constantly underestimate you. And I can usually get away with it." He eyes slid to James, "Unlike our mountainous friend here."

James clenched his jaw again.

"However," Justin lowered his voice conspiratorially, "If the Admiral hadn't tasked me with catching _all_ of them, I'd have Pulled Roy clear of the complex. He's such a huge asshole."

Vega felt his gut clench as a genuine peal of laughter spilled out of Eliza. "Would have fucking served him right." She turned to look at him. "You would have gotten a nasty surprise if you'd tried to wring the neck of this 'grunt', James." Her eyes twinkled as they met his, but when she saw that he wasn't at all amused, her grin faded.

James realized he was reacting like an selfish jerk, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I'd hoped for a shower and shave, but I don't want to leave you with someone I don't know for that long. Think you'll be OK if I'm gone ten minutes?"

_What the fuck am I hoping to hear? That she'll MISS me, for God's sake? GET A GRIP._

"I'll be fine, James. It's actually a good solution. NO one is getting past him, NO one could open the door even if they could get past him, and even if HE could get in, he can't stand it in here, so..." Shepard grinned again, slyly. "Go. You could certainly use a shower."

Vega turned and walked over to her. "You do realize I'm going to have to shut and lock the door, right?" He managed to stop himself from adding 'You can't just stand in front of your open cell door and flirt with the biotic spy all night.'

_Contrólese, Vega. Get a CLUE._

"Yes. I know the drill." She rolled her eyes and smiled past him at the man in the hall. James could have sworn there was a edge to that smile, and so didn't react when she called to Wilcott "Sure you don't want to join me? Could _talk_ about biotics... if not actually _do_ them..."

James glanced out the door in time to see the dark-haired man swallow hard, and almost felt sorry for him. He understood the dilemma: Wilcott clearly had some level of hero worship for this woman, and yet was utterly unequal to the task of getting close to her. Vega could relate.

"All right. I'll be back in a few. Do you want me to bring you more hot water, towels, the whole enchilada?" _So what if I'm not a biotic, not classically handsome, not great at espionage - *I* actually give a damn about you._

Shepard jumped a bit, clearly surprised, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, Vega could have sworn they looked shiny for a second.

"That would be... nice." She rolled her eyes. "You'll be standing where Wilcott is when I use them, though."

James grinned. "Hey, the null field doesn't bother _me_."

Eliza arched a brow at him and said "Shoo."

_Mierda. I'm **pathetic.**_

When he turned around, Wilcott had a half-smile on his face, and was slowly shaking his head. Vega walked out, locked the door behind him, stepped toward the biotic and met his eyes. " _What?_ "

As an annoyed Marine built like a linebacker entered his energy field, the dark-haired man paled slightly. "Nothing." Then he apparently reconsidered. "You two are cute, that's all."

James blinked, and felt a blush try to stain his face. Before it could completely manifest, he turned away. "Did I see a shower in the restroom across from the Medbay on this level?"

Wilcott paused briefly before answering. "Yeah, the last two stalls are changing areas and showers. You can probably get a clean uniform from Supply. Or... er..." He trailed off as he considered James' size.

Vega snorted. "I know. I'll figure out something. Which way is Supply?"

The biotic gave him succinct directions. James followed them, all the while considering how far beyond "mundane" this assignment had migrated. He acquired new pants and a new T-shirt (the latter was too small, but James was used to it) from Supply on Level Three, raced back up the stairs, into his adopted restroom, used the toilet, and jumped into the shower.

There he faced a final conundrum: to problem-solve or not to problem-solve.

He wanted to, desperately. The issue was whether it was _less_ responsible to leave Shepard alone in the negative energy field for that much longer simply to cater to his own desires, or _more_ responsible to take the extra five-ten minutes here, and go back into that room MUCH calmer, much less ready to-

_JODER. Pedazo de mierda, Vega._

He shut off the hot water. Problem solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the midpoint; things in the relationship start to hit the Reality Wall (with a couple deviations), but the good news is that (in general) life will begin to improve for Shepard. broadly, i guess you could say Eliza starts doing better (with a couple deviations), and James...
> 
> well, one of my general impressions of James is that he has just a few, _tiny_ issues with discipline. one of my writing affectations is that the more emotional he gets, the more (Mexican) Spanish he uses, and this is the most foreign language heavy chapter to date. the more frustrated he gets with orders and the status quo, the more he swears. so, without further ado, your lexicon:
> 
> Pinche pendejo ~ fucking asshole  
> De lengua me como un taco ~ Yeah, right, tell me another one.  
> Estás zafado ~ You're nuts  
> Hoy es un desmadre ~ Today is a disaster  
> Necesito pensar en otra cosa ~ I need to think about something else  
> ¡Basta ya! ~ That's enough!  
> Guapo cabróna está demasiado orgullosa de llorar ~ Beautiful bad-ass is too proud to cry  
> ¡No chingues, Hackett - estás zafado. No soy el loco. ~ Don't fuck with me, Hackett - You're crazy. I'm not the crazy one.  
> Como agua para chocolate ~ SO INCREDIBLY PISSED (Literal: like water for chocolate/hot  
> Que está en mal estado ~ that's messed up  
> Si tuviera huevos... Mierda. ~ If he had the balls... Shit  
> Contrólese ~ Control yourself  
> JODER. Pedazo de mierda, Vega ~ FUCK. You are a piece of shit, Vega


	11. An Actual Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh good lord, not more about this silly original character. Not much though. OK, phew. Anger and Sadness. Major depression. Another nightmare. Will we finally move on? 
> 
> And an _actual_ gentleman.

"So," Eliza stood very close to the door, and pitched her voice at a level she was sure Wilcott could hear, "you know Kaidan."

She estimated it was almost half a minute before the voice - more self-assured than she'd ever expected to hear it - replied: "He's my superior officer in PsyOps."

It was a cautious answer, Eliza noted. Was he trying to warn her away from asking anything personal? Yet again she cursed the lack of privacy.

"Anderson mentioned Alenko recruited you. From where?" This seemed innocuous enough.

There was another pause, another deliberate answer: "Eden Prime. I helped rebuild after the Geth wiped out the colony. Kaidan showed up almost a year ago, said Cerberus was starting to sniff around. That if I wanted to come in, now was the time."

Eliza pondered this. "Were you registered? How did he find you?"

The same obvious calculation before Wilcott replied "I've always been registered."

 _Jump Zero?_ "Did you know Kaidan from Gagarin?"

Laughter. Eliza judged it unforced; maybe it was genuine. She realized she was viewing every damn thing he said through the same jaundiced lens, and hated that this was her life again. Dealing with Vega had been a nice break.

"I'm a... _bit_ younger than Lieutenant Alenko."

"Are you?" Eliza tried to sound... if not _flirty_ , at least... _interested_.

"Yeah. Appearing older for this job made sense, though. People take you seriously."

_OK. He volunteered that. He WANTS to talk. Figure out how to make him do it._

"Spacer Kid makes good, huh? Alliance recruit, or did you slip the net?"

An even longer pause. Maybe as long as the first one. "The latter." He sounded super uncomfortable, and Shepard noted that information in case it was useful later.

_Wrong tack, but good to know he was on the run before Kaidan tracked him down. Is he loyal? Does that even matter right now?_

"So you... wanted to help?"

An actual rapid reply, and he sounded almost sincere: "Always. It always seemed like a waste to be using my gifts to grift people and destroy things." His voice fell in volume, and Eliza could barely hear him when he muttered "Of course, here I am again, only in uniform."

 _Saboteur_ , Shepard extrapolated. She sucked in a breath. _What the FUCK are you doing on MY detail?_

She felt the clock ticking on Vega's return. Wondered if she should push the personal angle, or just get the information she wanted. Decided to play it safe.

"Who are you reporting to now?" _Is. he. here?_

The silence stretched on, long enough that Eliza figured she'd been caught out. The voice finally answered her, quite soberly, "I'm on loan to Hackett for a bit." Then added, very quietly. "He's not here, Shepard."

_Dammit._

\--

She was back on her mattress, trying in vain to concentrate on the damn story, when a discussion outside her door heralded James' return. She looked up, and caught the full force of a clean, if scruffy, Lieutenant Vega smiling at her. He seemed relaxed and keyed up all at the same time.

_I **fucking** WANT a shower._

"Wilcott said he was expecting a transmission from Hackett as soon as the meeting broke up, so he's pretty sure it's still going on. " James' face fell, just the slightest bit. "Neither of us know if that's good or bad, but he promised to message me as soon as he hears something, and I told him I'd do the same."

_Are we all buddies, now? You were the practically _antagonistic_ toward Wilcott earlier, Vega._

Shepard sighed and waved the datapad. "I'm going to keep reading, then, if it's all the same to you." She did a double-take, and the fact that he was carrying the plastic bowl - steam rising from the surface of the water - and a bundle of fabric tucked under one arm, actually registered in her brain. "But first - get out."

Vega LAUGHED, nearly dropping the bowl. "Wow. Yeah, Shepard, you're welcome." He strode to the table, moved the remnants of the Chinese food over, and carefully set the bowl down. "While I'm out there, I'll call for a replacement toilet, too." He looked around and muttered "Why they couldn't have just given you a _pinche_ bathroom, I'll never know."

Shepard cleared her throat, thought twice, and then decided to enlighten him anyway. "Water that's been sitting in metal piping has minerals dissolved in it; it's too good of a conductor. That room temperature crap in the carafes they were giving me to drink is purified. De-ionized. That's one of the reasons it tastes so bad. These rooms are never built with water access, because if someone thought to flood the room, then used their gift enough to charge the water, it could short out the field." James turned back to her with both brows arched high, and she sighed. "Biotics know why these types of facilities exist, Vega, _and_ how they're built; I just never expected to be **in one.** "

He looked thoughtful. "It's odd now to think that I was never curious how they managed to incarcerate powerful biotics. The longer I'm in here with you, seeing what the damn field does to you, the worse this place seems to be as a solution. But what the Blue Suns did to that biotic you recruited on Purgatory obviously sounds worse, and I suppose they could have decided to keep you in cryo."

Eliza shuddered and then rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. They'd get a ton of information out of me while I was frozen solid."

Vega shrugged. "We already covered how stupid this staff is. I wouldn't have put it past them to have considered it."

_Neither would I._

Eliza stood up and made a shoo-ing motion with her hands. "Whatever. Let me get clean while the water's hot. I've been looking forward to this all day." She paused, debated, and and made a motion with her hand on her forearm as if she were typing in a code, pointedly looked at the ceiling. Vega looked surprised, but jammed the monitor. As soon as she saw the red flash, Eliza blurted out "I'd sell my soul for a shower. I don't suppose..."

It was interesting watching the temptation hit him. His face was an open book; and she could see he was actually trying to think of a way to make it work.

"You know I can't." His tone was deeply apologetic for a prison guard. "Especially after what you just told me - they're never going to let you bathe or shower. Honestly, now I'm wondering if I'm breaking some sort of weird rule bringing in a basin of water."

Shepard had wondered that, too, not that a measly extra few liters of hot water was going to make a difference. Even if she spilled that basin and ALL their drinking water, she couldn't cover the entire floor of this room.

_Say, eight liters, with the basin? No, we drank some. Seven liters, maybe. Seven thousand cc's... about seven square meters. Not even half of what I'd need. **If** I could get it to work without adding some sort of salt._

"I'd need another ten liters to even make a dent, and it might not work without adding ions." She smiled at him. "Try not to worry about it." 

She watched his face as the knowledge that she could do those sorts of calculations in her head made itself apparent. It was so much fun to play him... even when he occasionally got the better of her. She watched him key the reverse code into the omni-tool and the red flickered away. 

She regretted how badly he would take it, if she had to escape. 

_I wonder if he realizes I've figured out there's a bio-lock on the sensor. Without a verbal command or a code - which one of the staff should have been able to crack - it's the only way the lock would work coming and going, and _only_ for him. Can't be a print component - he often uses an elbow. No matter where he goes to sleep, if I drag him close enough to the door, it should open for me when I lift his hand. I suppose it **could** have an bio-energy detector as a safeguard, make you think twice about chopping off his finger, but that's less probable._

Shepard acknowledged that while she hadn't _consciously_ plotted out how to escape the null room, she did in fact have a working escape plan. Between having a way to steal the omni-tool, having already broken his codes and sent her messages, knowing about the DNA scan, and eavesdropping through the door/hearing exactly where Supply was, she pretty much had everything she needed to get the hell out of there.

_I just hope I don't have to._

\--

When she'd used the porta-john for the last time, washed up, changed clothes, and Vega had stalked back into the room still not having heard from either Wilcott or Hackett, Eliza's mood took a precipitous dive. She tried, and failed, to moderate this depression. 

Rationally, Shepard absolutely understood that a huge chunk of her emotional volatility was the null field. She could even explain it, analytically, to the Lieutenant. However, there didn't seem to be anything she could consciously do to ameliorate it. Especially while James sat two meters away getting angrier by the minute as the night ticked by with no call.

_It'd be incredibly helpful if you'd go back to being humorous and charming, Lieutenant. I know I can't order up that sort of interaction at will, but if I could..._

Eliza sighed loudly and retreated to her fallback position. It was really the only thing her pride would allow her to do. "I think... I'm going to try to sleep. If it's all the same to you." Eliza did her best to sound matter-of-fact. Level-headed. Not despondent - God, no. 

_You're being stupid. Get a grip, Eliza. This is just a bio-electro-chemical reaction to the lack of free electrons in the air. It isn't **real**._

Vega shifted in in one of the chairs, clearly agitated. He'd tried to contact all of them: Hackett, Anderson, AND Wilcott; he'd been sent straight to their personal VI messaging systems each time. Now he was scrolling through the extranet, and every so often he'd smack his forearm against the table, as if it was the omni-tool's fault that no one was reachable, or calling. If she was any judge of it, he was in a near-towering rage. 

"All right. Fine. I'll get the light." 

Shepard watched as James stood, used his palm to smack the light switch with a _bit_ more force than was strictly necessary, and then heard him basically throw himself down onto his thin mattress in front of the door. The hallway light, dimmed to its nighttime intensity, barely touched the darkness in her cell as it streamed through the high slit window. 

It felt... as if she'd been abandoned all over again. Her mood dropped further. 

"Would you..." Eliza stumbled. _No. Can't... won't... ask that. It wouldn't be **at all** fair, after today._

"Would I what?" James asked, clearly irritated. 

"Nothing. Good night."

\--

_There was a misty dark forest. Endless shifting trees. She tried to run, but the scenery kept changing, dumping her back where she'd begun. When she finally accepted she wasn't going to be able to get anywhere, and - sobbing her guts out - turned to look backwards, there was fire all around her. The trees morphed into buildings._

_Vancouver was burning._

_She was able to run now; she was dodging falling debris. It almost seemed as if someone was running alongside her, but when she turned to look, she was alone. Always and forever alone._

_And then Kaidan was there, looking exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him on Horizon, gesturing for her to crawl in front of him into a building. Still crying, tears edged with relief, she did so... only to find herself inside the same cryo chamber they'd busted Jack out of nine months ago. She pivoted, terror striking the core of her, and her former lover slammed the cell door._

_As the cold hit, she could hear the screams of people dying outside. The Reapers were invading. Her tears froze on her cheeks..._

\--

She woke up, still weeping, to a low voice calling her name. "Shepard, please. I'm right here. Do you hear me? Look, let me know you're awake enough not to smite me if I sit down."

For a minute all she could do was cry. Eventually, she nodded.

Slowly, carefully, someone clasped her hand. She closed her fist on that touch, and heard a pained gasp.

"OK, Shepard, I can't believe **I'm** having to say this, but don't break my hand, all right?"

She sniffed and eased her grip, just a bit, and then arms carefully slid around her. She began to bawl harder.

"All right. It's OK. I'm right here. Shhhhh."

Eliza didn't even recognize James at first, just that someone was there, wasn't hurting her, and she wasn't frozen solid. She could actually move, actually cry. She clung to the body next to her.

 _"Mierda._ This fucking room has a lot to answer for. I mean, I had a nightmare a half an hour ago, but it was about having to take a wicked crap and stinking up the place - not whatever hellscape your brain conjured up, that has you sobbing your guts out."

She tried not to laugh, and failed; it came out as a hiccup. She recognized James' voice, and the fact that she was safe finally registered. She sniffed again, loudly, and sighed. "That was a bad one."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Eliza was alert enough to wince. _Tell you that I was stupid enough to sleep with a junior officer in the past? That it went hideously awry, came back to bite me in the ass, and now - probably due to his subordinate being outside my fucking door and you and I almost sleeping together - I'm having nightmares about him? **No** thank you._

"It... I was in cryo. The Reapers invaded and I couldn't do anything to stop it. Everything burned." He rotated his body to slide in behind her, similar to where he had been the night before, and wrapped his arms around her again.

"I should never have fucking mentioned cryo. _Perdón._ " He almost instantly added "I'm sorry, Shepard."

She shook her head, back and forth, back and forth. "It's not your fault." Something happened to her brain, quite suddenly, and her anger spiked. "It's this **goddamn ROOM.** "

Vega went utterly still behind her. " _Cabrona,_ listen to me. Hackett wanted me to reassure you that you had 'strength left to tap', but I'd rather you realized that you can do _anything_ , say _anything_ , cry, scream, whatever. I'll be here. You're _not alone_. I'm not going anywhere. **I'm** responsible for getting you through this. And you WILL get through it."

She started bawling again, and his arms tightened around her.

"I... only meant..." She tried to stop sobbing long enough to get the words out. "If it hadn't been cryo, it... it would have been something else, equally bad. Or _worse_." She coughed.

"I get it. I'll take a bit of my own advice, then, and stop apologizing for saying that."

She nodded, sniffed, tried to ignore the snot running down her nose, but - like some sort of military magician - James pulled a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and pressed it into her hand. "I got two from Supply. Just in case."

That made her cry harder.

He rocked her a bit. "I'm probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, Shepard. Try to keep that thought front and center, if you can. I'm on guard. You can sleep."

\--

When Eliza woke, and struggled to sit up, she found James was again sitting at the table. He was scrolling through his omni-tool and scowling. There was a cup filled with some dark liquid on the table in front of him. She recognized the scent.

"No news?" Her voice came out scratchy. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Where did you get the coffee? I thought I drank it all."

She watched as he took a deep breath, stood, picked up the cup, and walked over to her mattress. He squatted down next to her and offered her the coffee. She took it, sipped, and tried not to look horribly confused by the solicitude.

"Something occurred to me last night." He blew out a loud breath through his nose. "I was so wrapped up in how incredibly pissed I was that Hackett was letting us down again, I completely missed the signs that you were headed downhill. _And_ because of everything that happened yesterday-" he paused and glanced up at the ceiling, where the vocal monitor was no doubt still functional, "you didn't feel you could ask me for comfort... in the way that you needed." Vega put out a hand and gently stroked her hair. "I'm a piece of shit, Shepard. I didn't mean to get so angry last night that I made you swing the other way, emotionally. I _know_ better. I _know_ what the null field has been doing to your control. I'm sorry."

Eliza's eyes got bigger and bigger as he spoke until finally she had to close them against the tears starting again. She slowly bent her head over the coffee cup, and left it that way.

"Wilcott came by early this morning and knocked on the door. He did it pretty softly, but I wasn't asleep, so I heard him. You didn't stir when I got up; I figured you were out of it. I went outside to talk to him. He told me they tabled the meeting around twenty-two hundred. They didn't even get to a vote. Hackett was late, like we knew he was going to be, so the meeting apparently _started_ with a couple of the Generals and one of the Admirals pissed off." James rolled his eyes. "Wilcott thinks it's all brinkmanship. He's pretty sure Anderson has the votes to get you out of here, the Board knew it, and they didn't want you sprung last night. So... fuck 'em, right?" James reached out an arm, slowly, and - when she didn't flinch back - hugged her briefly. "We should be leaving here this morning."

Eliza sniffed into her mug. _I will NOT start crying again. GODDAM null field..._

She fought the tears, and finally stowed them away. "How long ago was this?" She sipped the coffee and discovered it was still hot.

"Half an hour or so. It's only O-six hundred."

Shepard raised her head and stared at James. "Did you sleep at all?"

Vega shrugged. "Some. Lightly." He smiled, but Eliza thought it looked forced. "Almost as if we're still in enemy territory and I'm ready to claw my way out if necessary." He stood up and moved back to the table. "On the list of strange things Wilcott dropped off: cooked oatmeal. I tasted it; it's drug-free. So... breakfast? Of course there are also still your cookies." The second smile he tried seemed to come easier.

She'd so coolly plotted her escape just last night. Now she felt like a limp dishrag, worn and wrung dry.

"Can I... I need to-"

James side-stepped twice, hit the door panel, and left, locking the door. "Call me when you're done."

Shepard could only blink. She looked around the room in shock.

_And this is what happens when you fall to pieces in front of an **actual** gentleman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, there's a bit more of my science-y background in this one. well, a little bit of math, little bit of science: if either strike you as wrong, feel free to comment. a lot less Spanish; roll with it. bit more about why Shepard is where she is, and how much worse it could be. and yeah, i did get a 80s movie reference in there.
> 
> annnnnd, a little bit of angst. i've added "Past Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard" to the tags (actually did it a chapter ago, but it starts to make a difference in this chapter). i figured i'd finally mention in "notes" that (because this truly is a WIP) i'm not sure what will happen going into Part Two (unofficially already titled "The War Room") (working title, but i like it). 
> 
> if you're a confirmed Shega shipper and you want to lobby me for a particular ending, feel free to start commenting now. i *am* adding a bit to the "Part 2" file, once in a while.


	12. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FREEEDOOOOM! they finally get out of the Null Room (not that the repercussions aren't still echoing down the timeline). there's a crappy new apartment, more characters (Original Mass Effect Characters is now an official tag!), and a lot of work to acclimate. more exposition, more subtext drama. 
> 
> it's a very long chapter.

They were both eating oatmeal at the table like cowed five-year olds when Anderson finally checked in. The chron on Vega's omni-tool read 07:05.

"Hope you're both awake," Anderson's booming voice echoed through the screen, "It's _Moving Day_."

Vega glanced up at Shepard, saw how her eyes were shining, watched a trail start to gleam down one cheek. He turned slightly in his chair, angling his left forearm, until there was absolutely no chance she was visible in his feed. James didn't have a lot of compassion for either Hackett or Anderson after last night. He certainly didn't think either of them needed to know about the tears.

"When, Sir?" Vega made a concerted effort not to sound as angry as he evidently still was.

The picture wobbled a bit; Anderson must have jerked in surprise, because he responded "You don't want to know _how_ it was accomplished? _Why_ they gave in? Just _when?_ "

James ground his teeth. _You need **praise** , now?_

" **When** is the operative question at the moment." He took a deep breath. "The only update we've had since Hackett left yesterday was when Wilcott came by early this morning and informed me the meeting got off on the wrong foot, ran _quite_ late, and ended with no official vote. Of course..." Vega's voice went hard as flint, "he also finally deigned to mention that you more than likely had the results locked up."

_Not that anyone bothered to call and tell _us_ that last night, pinche baboso._

"So we spent another night in here totally blind. If you're telling me now that we're moving soon, I have to assume you did some sort of _in absentia_ vote, with a tally this morning."

Anderson stared at Vega through the omni-tool and finally grumbled "Something like that." He ran a hand over his crew-cut, briefly pulling his face from the hologram, then bending back into frame. "I'm sorry if last night was rough, Lieutenant. I heard what you told Hackett. But in giving the Committee the evidential review they wanted, and allowing them to decide the time of her release, we got a couple major concessions. Shepard keeps her commission - for now - and that means she'll have access to intel, be of some use. We believe that that will, in turn, look good for the trial. Also, _we_ were empowered with the choice of location and many of the conditions of her next confinement. Only four other people on the Defense Committee know where she's gong to be held. That _should_ cut down on attacks for awhile."

With over a half-dozen potential leakers, James had little faith her location would stay undisclosed for long, but he nodded - half at Anderson, and half at the woman who struggled to regain her composure just _behind_ Anderson. "So.... _when?_

"Eleven-hundred," the Admiral sighed. "I have a few more things to send over to the new place, and I need to arrange secure transport. Also... Wilcott is a well-trained spy, but he claims he's only a middling biotic. That he's not strong enough to help curb Shepard if she... has a problem. So we've called for additional back-up. At least for the first week."

Vega blinked. " _Biotic_ back-up." In his peripheral vision, Shepard moved fitfully; he glanced up at her in time to see her swallow hard.

_The idea of finally leaving here isn't making her ecstatic, and hearing that they're calling for additional people to help her if her biotics go wonky has her frightened? What am I missing?_

\--

Four hours. They had less than _four_ more hours to kill in here. Shepard had abandoned her partially-eaten oatmeal, walked back to her mattress, and dropped herself on it face-first. Vega thought about following her, and then remembered how the little sleep he _had_ gotten last night had been half nightmares, yes, but also half sex dreams. Distance was safer. He stayed at the table, straddling his chair backwards, well out of touching range. There had to be a way to make the time go as fast as possible, without asking her why she was upset about 'biotic back-up.' _And_ without sliding back into the teasing that had gone so far afield yesterday.

At least, that was the plan.

"So... less than four hours left, if we can believe Anderson. That's a good thing, right?"

There was a sniffle and a sigh from the bed. "Yup." One word, muffled by her pillow, but it was something. She'd barely spoken all morning.

"Did you, um, ever finish the book?"

She shook her head a bit, and then turned it to take a deep breath. "No."

He grabbed the top of the chair and tilted his body over sideways until he was nearly eye-level with her. Knowing very well he looked absolutely ridiculous, he said "Well, you should. It has a happy ending."

She grunted. Again, not a laugh, but it was _something_. She gazed at him, or... maybe... _past_ him? There was something in her stare that made him wish to God he knew what she was thinking.

"Shepard, what is it? You can tell me."

She met his eyes. He could almost see her brain working, considering and discarding possible responses, trying to decide what to say to him. "This is the first time since I joined the service that a superior officer ever arranged for 'biotic back-up', in case I was too dangerous to be around." A beat. "That I know of," she qualified.

Vega sat up, rested his arms on the chair back, and set his chin on them. "Well... given what this place did to you, and what you told me a couple days ago about having to 're-train', this is likely the insurance policy, you know? If they can find someone to help you, it's a bonus."

Her eyes went dead. "Another powerful Sentinel, you mean."

_**¿Qué** me estoy perdiendo aquíI?_

"I guess...?" he said slowly. "Is it different? Does that matter?" Not for the first time, he cursed his lack of preparation and knowledge in the one area - biotic powers and training - that would have apparently helped him more than any other.

The woman on the bed turned her head away, staring at the ceiling. "I need my omni-tool. Today. I need to find Liara. Hackett wanted to contact her, and... she can help. She's an Adept, her powers are strong, and she has some experience with mind healing." Shepard sniffed, loudly, and cleared her throat: someone endeavoring to unseat the phlegm of a morning full of stubborn tears. James frowned; it also sounded like the clarion call of a person who'd just decided that they were never crying again.

_That wouldn't exactly be healthy **either**._

"Why don't you just give me her contact information? I can try to call-"

Shepard was shaking her head. "No, the code I need is still in my omni-tool. Command would never recognize it, which is why Hackett demanded my help. I don't know why he wants Liara..." Her voice trailed off, but James thought he heard her mutter "He couldn't _know_ , could he?" When Eliza got louder again, she was emphatic. "She'll come, though. Probably. For a week. She can spare a week."

Vega felt lost. "Why not tell Hackett how to contact her?" And then he answered his own question, grumbling "Leverage."

Eliza shrugged. "Partly. I don't trust anyone right now." She tilted her head, reconsidering. "Maybe you."

James snorted, and tried not to smile. "Well, _gracias_."

" _De nada._ " James sat up straight off the chair back, spine stiffening in shock, then felt his gut growing warm as Shepard actually _laughed_ again. It didn't last long, but it had been real. "Don't get excited," she advised, "it's the only phrase I know."

"If you were only going to learn one phrase in Spanish, there are a lot of worse choices than that one." _¡Basta ya, Vega. No teasing, remember?_

Eliza rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Like - oh - _any_ of the phrases I've heard _you_ use?"

"Hey, I'll say _'de nada'_ to you all day long." _You just can't help it, can you, Vega?_

But Shepard laughed again, shaking her head, and he let out a small sigh of relief. 

_OK, I'm glad I basically ditched The Plan, since I questioned her AND teased her and she's smiling._

"But... also-" Eliza stopped, obviously considering her words carefully. She glanced up at the ceiling. "Dr. T'Soni would almost certainly classify this confinement as **barbaric** ," she grated out. "If you actually _want_ her cooperation for something, Admirals, you might not want her to know this cell even _exists_ , let alone that *I* was _in it._ "

Vega blinked, gripped the chair back. "Is that an Asari thing, or a Liara thing? Because the only other Asari I knew well- " he reconsidered, "Or _thought_ I knew well - was actually sort of... clinical." He snorted. "She _might_ have even thought studying someone in this field might be of value." James clamped down on the automatic pain that followed thoughts of Treeya, especially this line of conjecture.

"I think it's a Liara thing. She's young - for an Asari - and pretty tender-hearted." James watched as Eliza smiled softly, then arched a brow and looked at him. "That's not to say she isn't growing up fast." Shepard bit her lip. "But she's managed to retain a few strong ideas of what Good Guys Don't Do."

James nodded. He'd had those too, a year or so ago. It was amazing how a couple missions going wrong could leave you jaded, though. A picture of a teddy bear appeared in James' head, and he snuffed it quickly.

"She... I dropped her off on Thessia a couple weeks ago, but she's probably, um, back where she belongs by now." Shepard sighed and closed her eyes. "Still, I only have one _sure_ way to find her, and that's the code she gave me."

James mused. For hopefully the last time, he jammed the recording device and watched his omni-tool flash red. " _Cabrona_ , I think you can trust Hackett. I think you have to. He and Anderson may have screwed up last night-" he watched as Eliza swung around in alarm, noted the rosy glow on his forearm, and just as suddenly relaxed - "but they've been pretty tireless in pursuing what was best for you since they found out Command had stashed you in here."

She nodded. "You think I ought to give Hackett the information now, get him started on the search."

Vega cocked his head. " _If_ there's a time element involved... and if you suspect she's far enough away, or heavily involved in A Thing that she'll have to break away from, yeah. Make sure Hackett knows that she can probably help with your biotics, _and_ that he'll get access to her to ask about whatever it is _he_ needs, and I think it pretty much guarantees he'll do the contact and tell her what you need her to know."

Eliza sat up with a grimace, looking slightly sheepish. "Well..." She stood, walked over to him, and briefly re-checked his omni-tool, evidently reassuring herself of the jamming status. She settled into the other chair and calmly started to eat her oatmeal again. "I may have sent her a message yesterday, as well."

James let both of his eyebrows arch. " _May_ have? Either you did, or you didn't."

"I did. But it was a short, totally-encrypted one. From a completely anonymous source."

"That she will know is you."

Eliza jumped and a blush stained her cheeks, faintly. "Likely."

James laughed. "Shepard, I knew you hacked my codes. I didn't blame you. And, again, it was what I deserved for falling asleep on you. I... um..." He cleared his throat and forced himself not to look away. "I wanted to apologize for what happened after, anyway. Aside from cracking my omni-tool, you've been a model prisoner. It was thoughtful of you to let me sleep for awhile, _and_ cover for me." He met her eyes. "No one who's trying to help deserves to get thrown to the floor."

Shepard giggled at the obvious reminder, then looked downright appalled at the sound she'd made. Vega thought if her cheeks got any hotter he could cook eggs on them.

"It was... an accident, Lieutenant. I understood. I probably should have chosen some other way to wake you. Yelled something really loudly, cursed the book at the top of my lungs. _Something._ I thought I was being careful with my positioning and the military grip, but-"

"You were. I'm honestly ready to blame this damn field for making us both more jumpy than we'd normally be. But-" he took a deep breath. "What happened afterwards wasn't an accident. And if I need to apologize for it, I want to."

James watched her mental debate. He'd opened the door wide, and had to wonder if she'd walk through it. This was her chance to get them both back on the straight-and-narrow. She could rein him in, fix everything. All it would take is one little (he was almost positive) lie. Would she tell it?

_¿Tomarás la salida fácil?_

She mirrored his breath and squared her shoulders. Her spoon clinked down into the oatmeal bowl, and her eyes came up to meet his: soft green to murky hazel.

"You don't owe me an apology, Vega. If anything, *I* owe _you_ one. I'm the superior officer."

OK, he had _not_ expected _that_.

"*I* grabbed _you_. *I* was the one that didn't get off you right away."

She snorted. "You really think you're all that and a bag of chips, don't you, Vega? I could have knocked you off me at any point. I don't need biotics."

Now, he'd _known_ that, hadn't he? Still, _hearing it_ eased his conscience considerably; he found himself grinning like a fool.

"OK. So neither of us owes the other an apology, and we have one outstanding sparring challenge that is _going_ to need to be addressed sometime soon."

Eliza tried to hide her smile. "You're incorrigible."

James laughed. _"De nada."_

\--

Vega really didn't need to see more than the first two rooms of the place to apprehend that the apartment fit the neighborhood.

 _Which is one of the **worst** in Vancouver. MIERDA. ¡Ah poco! **This** is where they thought an attack **unlikely**?_ He wouldn't put it past a dozen of their new neighbors to knife any one of them for a hundred credits, let alone a half-million.

His disgust must have been showing on his face, because Shepard put out a hand and briefly touched his arm. "It's fine. It's perfect, honestly. We can do this; we can fit right in here, and a little extra violence... if it... you know, happens... won't even ruffle an eyelash." She was gazing around the room with a far more tolerant gaze than his own, obviously seeing things in the small living room that he was missing.

_Probably her freedom. Joder, she touched me. Again. Madre de Dios._

"Shepard-" James reminded himself that their escort was still standing in the doorway, waiting to be dismissed, "Commander. This place is... _rat-infested_ at best and _plague-ridden_ at worst. It's dirty. It _smells_ -"

She turned to him with a strained smile. "That's just the food place downstairs, Lieutenant. This is perfect." She turned to the two men in the doorway, one of whom was Wilcott. "As far as I'm concerned, you can leave. But I know my orders don't pull much weight anymore, so maybe you're waiting for the Lieutenant to decide his dainty manicure won't get scuffed from doing a little cleaning?"

Great. She was getting in a dig on him AND making him look like a wuss. He arched a brow at her in a clear 'That just earned payback' gesture, and then snorted when she arched a brow right back at him in a clear 'Bring it on' rejoinder.

_I know I spent a decade trying to be as good of a Marine as this woman, but damn if we don't seem like the same person, sometimes._

"Dismissed, gentlemen. That is... unless one of you lives here?" He turned his arched eyebrow on Wilcott.

"No, Sir." James gave Wilcott this much credit, and no more: while his tan Mediterranean face had _absolutely drained of color_ when he'd finally stood next to Shepard outside the null room, he hadn't let his panic define his behavior. He'd gotten into the confines of the shuttle, sat next to her, attempted to make small talk with her, even threw out a joke or two. He might be gibbering on the inside, but on the outside he was clearly attempting to be charming. Vega gave him points for courage and tact, if not intelligence.

He found it hard to fathom that both of the other men couldn't see how hard Shepard was _trying_. Maybe he'd gotten to know her more than he'd realized in just two days, but it was clear as day to him: the strain around the eyes, in her voice, how she was carrying herself. She was striving **so** very hard to appear 'normal.' To NOT seem 'dangerous.' She'd managed - by pulling on a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and rubbing some dirt on her face - to utterly erase her delicate beauty. She looked like some random street urchin, not a famous military Commander.

 _Like she belongs here_ , James realized. Had she known what Anderson was likely to do?

Wilcott and the other Marine - whom Vega recognized from the complex, and hoped like hell had passed an insane background check - were still standing at attention in the doorway, obviously waiting for him to dismiss them _without_ qualifiers. They were both dressed like Shepard; he'd noted it when he first saw them in the hallway outside the cell, hadn't really understood _why_ at the time.

"Let me guess. You're across the hall."

Wilcott winced. "I am." The biotic turned to the taciturn man beside him. James didn't think the man had said four words the entire trip, just plunked himself down next to the shuttle pilot and hit buttons. He didn't even know the man's name, with everyone in civvies now.

"I am downstairs," the dark-skinned man intoned. "In the manager's apartment."

James made a small 'ah' noise. "And what is your name?"

The man frowned. "You did not get files? That is bad reconnaissance." He turned to glare at Wilcott, who stammered and babbled for a few seconds before the dark man said "PsyOps, do not try that with _me_. I scare you as much as the rat over there."

James whipped around and saw it - an actual, dark brown, _large_ rat - near the wall.

_I **knew** it. I **KNEW** there would be-_

Shepard also turned. She casually gestured - there was a flash of blue - the rat rose into the air, paws flailing, and then sailed out of the second-story window. Somewhere below, a voice shrieked "WHAT THE FUCK!?!?"

Everything stopped. No one moved. No one spoke. Finally, Shepard turned to the men with a shrug, and said "What? You think that ruffled an eyelash?"

She hadn't gotten her amp back, and they all knew it.

Wilcott was the first to recover... sort of. He swallowed hard and took a step back. The man standing next to him apparently _also_ then felt free to take a step back. James's irritation spiked one thousand... on a one to one-hundred metric.

"Will you two **knock** that crap off?? _Que madres?? Mierda! ¡No mames!_ " Vega didn't even realize he'd gone on in Spanish _out loud_ until the dark-skinned man started to laugh his ass off.

 _"Híjole, hombre, ella no es peligroso para nada."_ The man's tone was obviously sardonic, and James was just ashamed enough at having torn them a new one in a language half of them understood, to take a step forward, get into the man's face, and turn the Intimidation Factor up to 'maximum.'

"Did I miss the part where you introduced yourself properly, failed to tremble like a terrified child at the slightest display of biotic power, and proved you were fit to be the front-line defense for the building?"

The man's eyes went huge, and he suddenly straightened, snapping a salute. "No, _Sir_. I mean- I am Sergent Robert Osorio, Lieutenant. Combat engineer. Which is why I am in the basement fixing the pipes, and, uh, rigging explosives." The man had a heavier accent than Vega had realized, once he strung an actual sentence together. 

_Native speaker - probably should have picked that up. Good at mechanics. And an Infiltrator_. Vega shook his head. _Lo entiendo ahora - we're going to fit this neighborhood like an arm in a sleeve._

 _"Shepard no comprende Español."_ Vega warned Osorio, only to quiver slightly as the Commander popped up at his side.

"Except _de nada_." James watched with his jaw hanging down as she smiled flirtatiously at the Sergent. "But Lieutenant Vega told me that if I only ever learned one phrase, I picked a good one."

Osorio started to laugh again, and - after a nervous few seconds - Wilcott joined in. Vega was left awestruck by her ability to sense and diffuse a tense situation even when she herself was incredibly tense.

She bumped him with her arm, and it brought him back to reality with a tingle. Every time she touched him now, he found himself wondering 'Was that biotic? That? What about that one?' He was starting to become concerned it could get _exhausting._

"So... we have over half the building?" James confirmed. Osorio nodded, followed by Wilcott. "And directly above this apartment?"

"Empty." Osorio noted.

Wilcott glanced at Shepard, then met Vega's eyes. "It's, uh, being held for the biotic Anderson contacted to help with, uh, things." He looked at Shepard again. "He should be here in a few days."

James also turned to Eliza, wondering for approximately the thirtieth time what the fuck he was missing.

Her return glance was bland. She shifted her gaze to Osorio. "So half the third floor is ours, the entire second floor, and half the first floor - the other half being the take-out place. Is there roof access? A basement?"

The Sergent nodded appreciatively. James could see it in the man's face; Shepard had won him over with the tiniest bit of his native language, a slice of technical knowledge, and a come-hither glance. _Mierda_.

 _"Si"_ , he responded. And then his dark face colored just the slightest bit as he added. "Yes... uh... Ma'am?" He glanced at Vega for reassurance, but James was trying too hard not to laugh at the Infiltrator's self-chosen predicament. Let him be at sea, and sort it out; James had. "Roof entry is through the empty apartment. Basement access is through mine. No uninvited guests, as long as everything is alarmed, and I run the correct warning lights. Or can use bell, siren, whatever the Lieutenant wants. But I thought... silent is best?"

Shepard shrugged and looked at Vega. He mulled it over. "In sequence, then, if it's not too much trouble. Door off the roof - silent. Door into the third floor apartment, klaxon. Same with the basement exterior door. Where does it come out?"

Wilcott fielded that one. "Side alley, has a staircase down into our building. There's also a fire escape off the end of this hallway that runs from the third floor down to, well, about a two-meter drop to the opposite alley... but I have some ideas about that." He cleared his throat. "All kidding aside-" he glared at Osorio - "I actually did upload a huge amount of data to your omni-tool at O-nine-hundred." He looked from Vega to Shepard, trying not to seem _quite so_ interested as to be insubordinate, but clearly intrigued as to why James hadn't yet seen it.

"I'll look over it later. Go start... well, _cleaning_ , I suppose, by the looks of _this_ place. Except the alarm system; that obviously takes precedence." He glanced at Wilcott. "I assume part of your deal is patrol?"

Wilcott nodded, and then grinned when Vega advised "Try not to get knifed."

\--

"Just _SHAVE_ it, Shepard - _Orale!_ It doesn't fucking have to be perfect. I just want it off my fucking _neck_ again."

"Christ, Vega, am I your personal fucking valet now? I _said_ I'd do it, and I _will_ , just..." Eliza flailed, obviously hesitating over the extreme sharpness of the tool he'd handled her, and the fact that whenever she placed it to his neck, he couldn't stop himself from squirming.

 _It isn't as if the longer she's free of the null field, the stronger **her** energy field becomes, right? Not like she's - I dunno - regaining her strength, and soon her energy is going to completely fill the apartment?_ James swallowed. _It's gotta just be in my head. Just _expecting_ to feel this weird electric softness whenever she gets close, ramping up to an actual physical ticklish **shock** whenever she touches me..._

Whether it was all in his head or no, her hesitation - standing so close, too softly touching him with the razor, in addition to the soapy water dripping all over him - was driving him crazy. He grabbed the razor from her.

"Look, this is the angle, like I showed you." He repeated the motion he'd already showed her twice, all the while considering whether or not it would _really_ be that dangerous for him to get the very back of his neck himself. "Halfway up. _Then_ switch to the comb and scissors. It's **easy**."

" **I'VE. NEVER. DONE. THIS. BEFORE.** " Shepard grated. She'd cleaned up a bit herself, washed her face, taken off the hoodie, perspiration from scrubbing down the kitchen - which is what she'd been doing when he cornered her here - dampening her white T-shirt into yet _another_ distraction. "You know... I _told_ myself, just yesterday, that you deserved to get your throat slit for falling asleep on me as happy as a clam after you-" She stopped, appalled at how her mouth had kept going while her brain was still in 'Park.' Her cheeks went red.

"After I...?" Now James was dangerously amused. Dangerously, because all he'd wanted to do for the past three hours was grab her and resume what they'd been doing yesterday, with no recording device to keep either of them quiet. He'd swept, mopped, dusted, and killed spiders (even after she begged him to just pitch them out the window, which... defenestration appeared to be her answer for all vermin). In his head, however, he'd been having his way with Commander Shepard. On the fold-out couch. On the floor. On the couch again.

Obviously he'd encountered his recurring problem, but damn if it wasn't wonderful to have an actual bathroom - and privacy - available for a solution.

It was a _minuscule_ bathroom, though. _Barely_ big enough for him to problem-solve unless he got into the shower, though that was going to be a tight fit, too. He didn't want to shower, however, until they finished cleaning the apartment. And before he started scrubbing the bathroom - before he scrubbed another _centimeter_ of this filthy apartment - he fucking needed his crew-cut back.

"After _you_ enjoyed yourself, and *I* _didn't._ " She'd obviously _tried_ to stop herself from spitting this out, and just as obviously regretted that she'd failed.

"I distinctly remember inviting you to join me on two occasions," James purred. Now _this_ was fun. He allowed an evil grin to slide onto his face. And waited.

Eliza closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were lit with an unholy green fire. "You DO REALIZE I'm holding a straight-edge razor to your throat, right?"

Vega started to laugh and couldn't stop. He bent over in the chair, absolutely guffawing, nearly crying, while soap suds slid everywhere.

"Oh, for fuck's sake - **sit UP** ," Shepard growled. And Vega... was disconcerted to feel a force pulling him backwards into the kitchen chair he was sitting on. Then he realized there was a faint bluish tinge to the air around him, and he couldn't... quite... move. He swallowed hard.

"Um... do I need a safeword for this barbering?"

"You should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth," she snapped back.

She pivoted to his right, and he felt her delicately placing - it _fucking_ tickled! - the straight edge to the back of his neck again, carefully approximating the angle he'd shown her. Only this time, he couldn't even squirm.

"OK, again, that **FUCKING tickles** ," he grumbled loudly.

"This is me _not giving a damn_ ," she retorted. "All I care about is that you _not_ move at the worst possible moment, cauing me to **fucking** _cut you_ ," she continued. "You wanted this so damn bad, you can just SIT there, and let me get it done." She waited ten seconds or so (during which the modified Stasis field held and he failed to move) then bent over his shoulder and trilled into his face: " _Gracias, amigo!_ "

\--

"Why all the tattoos?" She was finally, _finally_ done, and Vega couldn't ever remember a time he'd undergone such exquisite torture in the name of eventual comfort. _Mierda. Next time I should just let her wax my back or something._

"Why not?" He was rinsing his head in the sink, washing the loose hair away, scratching his skull and neck and his shoulders under his T-shirt, and, well, basically everything he could reach. He was nearly blissed out on the fact that he was (a) free of the fucking chair, (b) hadn't bled all over - or even been nicked, (c) finally had his hair back, and (d) was no longer sweating all over the place.

She snorted, still sweeping the floor. "Fine. Don't tell me."

He grabbed the towel he'd laid on the counter, and wrapped his head and neck in it, rubbing vigorously. When it felt like most of the water had been absorbed, he pulled the towel off with flick in her direction. "I don't mind telling you. But I have a question, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh course you do. Remember, I'm armed." She shook the broom at him.

James snorted loudly "Shepard, you basically just introduced me to the dubious delights of biotic bondage. I'm not all that frightened of getting whacked by a _bo_ at the moment."

Eliza's face _flamed_ red, and her eyes narrowed at him. He could tell she was _absolutely_ considering hitting him with the broom. He watched her take a deep breath, and then rest the bristle end on the floor.

"I _only meant_ , she gritted out, "they must have been incredibly painful to receive. Especially up the back of the neck. And they can't be hidden."

"I would take that Truth." James smiled. "The question is - are you willing to take one? I have something else I've been wanting to ask, in exchange."

She looked at him for about twenty seconds, clearly debating, perhaps judging his character and intentions. This woman had just forcibly restrained him with her mind for fifteen minutes, with no prior warning, _without an amp_... and he realized he just didn't give a damn. In fact, he was intrigued.

_I'm in so. much. trouble._

"Here's the difference: you're going to ask me something intensely personal that I'll be sorry I agreed to tell you for the next week, remembering it each and every time I run into you in the kitchen. You, on the other hand, probably got those tattoos to keep the other boys from picking on you in junior high school. So... no deal."

She walked away, into the living room, and he heard her voice floating back to him. "And you can finish cleaning up your own damn hair."

\--

James didn't know _how_ he knew she'd slipped out, but he fancied he could feel the _lack_ of her in the confines of the small apartment. When he checked the new program "Building Alarms" on his omni-tool, he was fairly amused to see that - while she'd managed to avoid tripping the loud buzzer alarm that Osorio had installed on the roof access stairs - she'd apparently forgotten the "silent warning light" on the actual exit.

It wasn't a bad plan, sitting out on the roof. It was incredibly hot in the small space. They were both categorically _filthy_ by the time they'd each tackled their two rooms, and he fancied the kitchen had been the worst of the lot.

He messaged the Sergent and warned him that it was just him and Shepard outside (to explain the light, and in case he set the klaxon off after all). Then he popped out of the apartment, unlocking and locking the door (out of necessity, he'd added three DNA clearance codes to the new one, and was already regretting it). He climbed the end staircase up to the third level, and encountered _another_ sealed door on New Biotic's apartment.

 _OK, now why is this locked?_ Then he answered his own question - they only had half of the third floor. _I fricken wish Anderson or Hackett or whoever arranged this billet had managed to rent the entire building. Then again, nothing says 'safehouse' like kicking perfectly reasonable tenants out onto the street en masse._

Luckily, he (and, well, probably Osorio) had the codes to every apartment. He'd thought twice about having the Sergent install the special tungsten lock onto the door to their apartment (because, again, nothing screamed 'These occupants are special' more than a separate deadbolt) but now he observed the apartment across the hall from New Biotic's ALSO had an exterior coded bolt.

_See? I'm not paranoid, and my little street urchin roommate isn't special. I'm just _as_ careful as... whoever these people are._

Then the question became how _Shepard_ had gotten into the New Biotic's soon-to-be quarters, and he snorted when he realized she must have hacked the door... because of course she had.

James noted, as he walked through, that this apartment wasn't exactly _clean_ , but it was WAY cleaner than the monstrosity they'd just tackled downstairs. He felt a tad miffed that he'd had to work his ass off when the New Biotic would waltz in here and encounter something close to move-in ready. Of course... whoever moved into the roof access apartment was clearly taking on the greatest risk. Vega understood that. Not to mention potentially being woken in the middle of the night to quell a shaking building or something.

He cut through the living area - larger than downstairs, due to the open floor plan - and into the kitchen. He'd wondered how he was going to recognize the roof access, and how he was going to manage to get into the stairwell without tripping Osorio's alarm, but it turned out he needn't have worried - Shepard had taken care of all of that for him.

The roof access door was propped open.

He slid through the opening, sidled up the stairs, and carefully eased the actual exit door open, recognizing at the last second the faint 'click' that was the silent warning light activating. OK, well, now he knew how _that_ worked. He was so bemused by setting off the traps that he himself had ordered installed that he almost ruined his entire fucking night. As it was, he jerked backwards into the shadows and only _just_ managed to not make the loud shocked noise that would have accomplished the same thing as walking full-tilt out onto the roof.

Because Commander Eliza Shepard had tucked herself into an alcove about eight meters away, and was using a gravity-fed shower that one of the tenants had clearly set up, perhaps to be used after working in one of the huge planter boxes he was inadvertently hiding behind. Or perhaps after spending some time lounging in the sun in one of the old, faded chaises... that he would have certainly tripped over, if he hadn't _immediately_ stopped moving.

Shepard wasn't wearing gardening clothes or a swimsuit, however.

Shepard was naked. _Wet_ and naked. Rainwater, collected in a large cistern on top of what was probably the building's heating unit, was being funneled through a piece of pipe, and down into a rusty shower head. There was a chain hanging near her head, probably a basic way to open and shut a valve on the cistern, or in the pipe. It was one of the most slapdash assemblages Vega had ever seen in his life, and he'd seen quite a bit of slipshod construction.

Except... nude goddess... glistening in the light of a glorious sunset? That was a scene directly out of one of his preeminent fantasies.

 **This** was the moment where a truly intelligent man would leave. _Remember how you yelled at yourself for hours because you didn't remove your person from on top of **her** person after she woke you up?_ James winced.

And then he thought, _Yeah, I remember that. I also remember that she told me if she'd wanted me to get off her, she would have kicked me off her, which means... she wanted me too._

There was no way around it. He had another problem. A _worse_ problem than earlier, maybe, and James hadn't thought that possible. _Damn traitor body, que madres?_

He wondered how long she'd been in there, wondered if she was planning on draining the entire cistern, wondered what would happen if someone needed the water... but really, everything he was wondering boiled down to 'Do I have enough time, and can I be quiet enough?'

He guessed he was about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, there is SO much to unpack in this chapter; i hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> firstly, this it is an introduction to one of the songs on my playlist for this 'fic. if you're confused by that statement, go listen to Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" (i'm partial to the Jeff Buckley version), because you're missing out. most prominently, perhaps, this song provided a backdrop for one of the loveliest (but shortest) romantic arcs on "West Wing" (CJ and her bodyguard), and i *always* wanted it to have a better canon romance. no, it's not a sweetly romantic song, but it says a great deal about Love and War, and well... that's the 'fic.
> 
> if you're interested in the rest of the playlist, i may disclose it eventually.
> 
> secondly, there is an homage to my absolute Favorite Fanfiction Author of All Time at the end of this chapter. since the moment i decided to craft the midpoint around the song (without it being a true 'songfic') i knew i was going to have to write a 'bathing on the roof' scene - and i kept flashing back to Bowen's _amazing_ story "Please Respond", which is all dialogue, and wherein Janeway and Chakotay discuss their, um, "problems" on New Earth. i'm doubtful i can hit Bowen's level of heat, and i wasn't ready to try (with everything else going on in this chapter), so you get the cliffhanger. will i make an attempt in chapter 13? honestly, i'm still on the fence. (btw, people now trying to find her fanfiction, i wish i could help you, but we're talking twenty years ago, and i have no idea if it's still published somewhere.)
> 
> EDIT: i sat with my deliberations for a couple days, started writing the next Chapter, and it's very likely the story will be re-rated NC-17/Explicit going forward, if that makes a difference in your consumption.
> 
> lastly, The Null Room's humor quotient is incredibly important to me, and i wrote my first truly "LOL" (for me anyway) bit here. i feel like it's appropriate, given Shepard finally being free, but it's also important to the direction of the plot, because Shepard _will_ begin to recover, and the "feel" of the story _will_ circle around to the canon Shepard you know and love (the intent, anyway). so, what you can expect of Shepard: humor, control, decisiveness... and more winning.
> 
> don't feel TOO sad for James. he'll survive.
> 
> oh, _actually_ lastly, your Spanish primer:
> 
> pinche baboso ~ fucking idiot  
> ¿Qué me estoy perdiendo aquíI? ~ What am I missing here?  
> ¿Tomarás la salida fácil? ~ Gonna take the easy exit/way out?  
> Híjole, güey - ella no es peligroso para nada. ~ Holy cow, man - she's not dangerous at all.  
> Lo entiendo ahora - I get/understand it now.  
> Shepard no comprende Español ~ Shepard doesn't understand Spanish  
> Orale! – in this context, Hurry up!


	13. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get pretty interesting on the roof. if you want to try to keep the story more in the "R" neighborhood, you should probably skip from when James returns to the roof until the next set of dashes and sub in your head "OK, Shepard solved her problem."
> 
> we (re)discover new and interesting canon things about our beloved Mass Effect characters, AND new and interesting things about my original Mass Effect characters. and the we settle Ye Olde Sparring Question.
> 
> i feel like i should mention: part of the conceit of this attempt at dissecting biotics is that it would have some correlation to energy work in Real Life. Shepard's brain - already quite futzed by the incidents in ME2 and half-machine - has been denied the ability to super-charge her aura for DAYS. so.... now that she's out of the field... she's kind of going a little nuts. oh well, she called it, right?

Eliza was in heaven.

_OK, reality check - it's a grimy rooftop in Downtown EastSide. You're standing under a rusty spigot that's trickling lukewarm water down your _absolutely filthy_ body. This is as far from Cerberus-supplied luxury as you're EVER likely to get._

At least until the Reapers actually attacked. She shuddered. This situation really _would_ feel like heaven in that case.

But as she watched the sun set from the rooftop, finally feeling _cool_ for the first time in _days_ , no one could tell her that it wasn't pretty damn fine up here.

 _At least until we get company._ She frowned as her mind flashed back to the empty apartment she'd cut through.

There was _maybe_ a twenty percent chance Hackett had convinced Anderson _not_ to go after Kaidan, to instead reach out to Dr. T'Soni. Eliza actually felt there were better odds of _both_ of them showing up.

 _Won't THAT be fun?_ She shook her head rapidly, water flying everywhere.

She'd managed to untangle the braid; as sweat-soaked as her hair was, it had taken quite awhile. Yet again she considered chopping it all off. Vega had certainly seemed relieved when she'd taken _maybe_ five centimeters off his hair. Would that effect be multiplied if she lost a _meter_ of hers?

Wondering what she'd look like with the equivalent of a crew or pixie-cut, she didn't register the faint sounds, or catch the new energy signature, right away. When she did, she stiffened slightly, and pivoted so that her front faced the building. Then she reached up to wring out the tail of hair in question with irritated motions.

 _What the absolute fuck. I can't have ten_ fucking _minutes to myself?_

If was probably Vega. She'd be lucky if it were Vega. He'd probably consider this the show he'd missed out on yesterday morning. If she was slightly less lucky, it was Osorio. Then again, the Infiltrator struck her as the kind of man who would shout out _"PERDON!"_ and flee. This person, whoever it was, had _not_ fled. If she was even more unlucky, it was Wilcott. She continued to wring out her hair and cautiously extended her energy field... and felt nothing. Not Wilcott. Not - _thank all that was holy_ \- **Kaidan**.

 _It HAS to be James. Or - Christ - I suppose if I were_ really _unlucky, it could be one of our new neighbors - like, whoever built it in the first place?_

She bit her lip, gathered her hair into a damp ponytail, wound it up into a bun, and secured it with the elastic band. She once again raised her face to the shower head and scrubbed at the grime on her forehead, cheeks, chin... thinking.

_It has to be James. If it is..._

Her cheeks reddened. If it _was_ Vega, he wasn't going to just leave. And she sympathized, at least a bit. She'd considered escaping up here for that, herself. She was vaguely ashamed at some of the thoughts she'd entertained while she had him at her mercy an hour ago.

 _We do NOT paralyze junior officers and do things to them without their consent_ , Eliza sternly lectured herself. Of course, he'd consented to the damn haircut. Hell, he'd _demanded_ the damn haircut.

_I could... be **really** mean here._

Eliza bent her head forward slightly and scrubbed at the back of her neck, wishing for the third time that she'd known the shower was up here and brought soap and towels. Part of her wanted to catch Vega out, yell something like 'You know, an ACTUAL gentleman would go get me soap and towels.' Of course, she could almost hear him responding 'I can do that. Stay right there, and save me some water.'

She found herself laughing, still carefully denying him the full frontal. How evil to be, was the question. Should she indulge him, some sort of perverted reward for being, well, not the worst prison guard she could have acquired in the process of turning herself in? Or should she absolutely deny him the opportunity to relieve himself _yet again_ while she remained, well, _wound_?

_And I'd better decide quick, because he's probably been... problem-solving... for a few minutes already._

"OK, you've obviously figured out I'm here," his voice suddenly called.

_Yup. James._

"I mean, I _had_ a great view. An, um, _amazing_ view. I, um, couldn't stop myself from making a noise. Then you completely turned around and started playing with your hair. So, you _know_ I'm here." The voice cleared its throat. "So, my question - my _intensely-frustrated_ question - becomes 'Why haven't you _zapped_ me yet?' I believe all vermin go out the window, right?"

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up, and glanced over her shoulder to see he'd stood up, his head and torso now visible above the rear edge of one of the huge planter boxes, but carefully hiding his lower half.

"You're too heavy to Throw without my amp, " Eliza mocked. "I don't need another killer headache; I've _just_ started to feel _better_." She grinned at the wall. "I was actually trying to decide how evil I was willing to be, wondering if you deserved some sort of reward for being basically decent during this entire process."

 _Eliza, what the **fuck** are you doing? Sometimes the truth does_ not _set you free. Sometimes the truth gets you into a LOT of trouble._

She'd shocked him into silence, though. She laughed again and pulled on the chain next to her head, releasing the catch and feeling the valve in the pipe slide closed. The steady flow of rain ebbed to a few droplets.

"I have a proposition."

_Huh. **That** didn't take long._

Shepard slid sideways until the corner of the alcove, angling quite close to another planter box, probably blocked his line of sight. "This ought to be good."

There was an exaggerated cough, and he likewise stepped a body-length out from behind his concealment so he could look her in the face again, even though _her_ body was now mostly hidden and his was mostly _not_. She couldn't help herself; she looked down, and saw that the button-fly on his uniform pants was still most of the way unbuttoned, there _was_ a large bulge, but everything was still tucked away into decidedly non-military black briefs. Or tucked _back_ into the black briefs.

_Probably the latter._

"You need soap. And you'd probably like a towel and clean clothes. I'll go get them for you, if you'll wait for me."

_Called it._

"And then what?"

"You let me watch. And, er, finish."

"You didn't let _me_ watch." Eliza couldn't believe she had brought that up _again_... even as the words left her lips.

"Not equivalent. I'm just watching you shower. Not..." She watched his throat bob as he hard-swallowed. "I mean... I'd... goddammit, Shepard, if you want to drape yourself over one of those chaises and... _solve your problem_ , I'll sit over here and show you damn near anything you want."

Eliza felt her face go red-hot. _And this is why you don't SAY the things you said,_ she reminded herself. _Now there's one more picture you'll never get out of your head._

"I'd probably end up with tetanus." Attempt number one at defusing the situation with humor.

"I'll cover it with a sheet. I can be back in approximately thirty seconds, barring traffic on the stairs." Eliza couldn't tell if this was also a joke... or not.

"As your superior officer OR your prisoner, us talking about this is still a really bad idea, right? I mean, I feel like I lost the thread."

She watched as Vega let his eyes flutter shut and took a deep breath. "OK, Shepard. I get it. I'm going."

And he turned to leave, sliding around the planter box.

 _"WAIT."_ **Again** , she found herself speaking before she thought.

 _Bad Idea, Liza, to have your mouth flapping without your brain first dictating the contents. And you've been doing it an_ AWFUL LOT _lately_.

He paused, still looking away. She eased a bit further out of the alcove, mostly remaining hidden by the planter box, but if he turned, he'd definitely see her breasts. Such as they were.

"I'd truly appreciate soap and towels and clean clothes." It was about as far as her pride would let her bend right then.

His back stiffened. "I'll do that for you. No cost." He sighed. "I don't mean to act like a shit, Shepard. Sometimes a thing will sound funny or sexy in my head, so I say it out loud, but when I play it back - overlaid with Anderson's accusation - it sounds wrong."

Eliza was still, slowly, moving forward. She stubbed a toe on one of the chaises and bit her tongue against a loud curse. If he turned now, well, he'd get that full-frontal.

"You're not the only one trying to figure out what to do, James." She stopped dead when he stiffened, and they both recalculated how close they were.

"Eliza..." Shepard jerked in shock, maybe two meters behind him. It was the first time he'd ever used her Christian name. "Getting any closer to me right now: _naked_ , wet, not sure if it's a 'yes' or a 'no'? VERY. BAD. IDEA." He still wouldn't turn around.

She agreed. She honestly didn't know what the hell she was doing. There were clearly two separate issues here: the intense attraction between them (and whether or not they were going to indulge it) and the new quirk of brain chemistry that was making her act so _incredibly_ recklessly. Honestly, this hadn't been her MO in **years**.

"I... know that. I just don't know whether it makes everything better, or worse, if I... agreed to your proposition."

It hadn't seemed possible for Vega's back to get any straighter, until it did.

"I think... in the end, it's probably worse. But for tonight, it might make things a little easier."

Shepard blinked. Then foot-in-mouth-disease took over and she spit out "For _you_ , at least."

That evidently pretty much did it as far as Vega was concerned, because he spun around. His eyes raked her form, and she finally understood the weird idiom from the _bruja_ book: how a glance could 'leave fire in its wake.' It literally felt like her skin was burning.

"OK. This is ridiculously painful, so I'm going to count to ten. I know that's an incredibly cheesy and arbitrary time limit, but hear me out. You can grab your clothes and get the hell out of here, which we both agree would be the smart option, or you can back the heck off me, all the way into the alcove, and I'll go assemble a shower kit for you and be back... eventually. Or..." His eyes met hers.

She swallowed. "Or?"

His jaw clenched hard. "You can stay there. And *I'll* do something about your problem, so you will _stop_ bringing up the fact that you still _have_ a problem... as if _I wasn't STANDING RIGHT **HERE** , _begging_ to fix your **problem**."_

Eliza shut her eyes. This was insane. It wasn't happening. She wasn't capable of doing any of this with someone she only met two days ago.

"One."

Her eyes flew open, and her body jerked. He was looking downward, at her legs, probably. She hoped.

"If you had your choice..." his head came up and their eyes met. "Which-?"

"The last one, _obviously._ I've been dying to get my hands on you all day. Unfortunately, there is no denying that the third option causes us the most issues down the road. _Two._ "

"I- I'm finding it really hard to remember I only met you two days ago. I don't know why it feels so damn strong."

"I've had an attraction be this strong, this fast. It doesn't last, though. Unfortunately. **Three**."

Shepard made a face. _Wow. Way to kill **that** romantic fantasy, James._

" **Four**."

_What the _HELL_ am I doing?_

" **Five**."

"OK. Second option. I'll back up now."

She slowly backed away, watching as Vega spun around and muttered "Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. _Ten... **FUCK.**_ " He then walked back over the roof and slipped through the access door. If he was moving a bit stiffly, well, so was she.

\-- (to remain vaguely in "R" territory, skip!)

Shepard waited, biting her lip, until the door creaked again. By her count, it hadn't even been a minute. James slid around the planter box, eyes firmly on the concrete of the roof, and dropped a stack of cloth on one of the chaises. He sat down on the other chaise, turned his back on her alcove, and said "Unfortunately, we have company."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat, as _panic_ seized her. Then she shook herself and cursed under her breath. Apparently loudly enough for Vega to hear, because he snorted loudly and replied "Indeed."

She eyed the clean clothes, the soap. She cursed again, managed to keep it internal this time. She took a calming breath, braced herself, and asked "Who?"

Vega pulled up a timer on his omni-tool, set it, minimized it, and then laid back in the reclining chair, closing his eyes. "Hackett. You have ten minutes before I said we'd be down. He's getting updates from Osorio and Wilcott right now." James made a disgusted noise. "He's 'dressed down', but how ANYONE in this misbegotten slum can't recognize lifetime military, even in civvies, is beyond me." Vega snorted loudly. "Of course, it likely helps that two-thirds of the people down there are speaking fluent Spanish; if I was down there, it'd be three-fourths." He stretched his arms over his head, then tucked them behind his freshly-shaven neck. "I know I was a bit harsh about Anderson's plan, but if _he_ shows up here in a black hoodie and jeans, speaking Spanish like a native, I'm going to have to fall on my knees and beg his forgiveness for ever thinking badly of him."

Shepard cleared her throat. "You mean because you all fit into this neighborhood." She sighed. "But I don't."

James cracked open his eyes, glanced at the omni-tool again. "Nine minutes." He closed his eyes. "Look... I'm... _sorry_ about - well, I'm not exactly sure what I did or said that took us from the brink of indulgence to you scuttling away from me - but what I'm _trying_ to tell you is that it's a damn good thing I said or did it. Because you have LESS than nine minutes to enjoy a shower, get dressed, and go find out from Hackett if he found Liara T'Soni."

Eliza carefully scrambled forward, grabbed the soap and towel, and launched herself back into the alcove. "You _told_ him I was up here showering?"

James chuckled. "Not in so many words. I told him you'd escaped up here to get some alone time, and I'd followed you because Batarians, and you were peeved at me. But he's so enraptured with catching up with Osorio, I wouldn't worry about a cover story. I gather they know each other pretty well, and I'm starting to suspect the Sergent - if Sergent he even is - is _also_ a spy."

Shepard paused in the scrubbing of various body parts to ponder that piece of information. It fit. It very much fit that the first thing Hackett had done when she surrendered was insert his people into the security team at the facility. It made sense that he'd been trying to get in to see her for days before the Committee actually allowed her visitors. Something in her that had remained solidly angry began to dissolve.

"Eight minutes."

Listening to his voice, counting down all over again, made her body throb. It was exactly like the previous countdown, but it was closing a door rather than opening one. Her hands crept forward and down. He wasn't the only one who could be quiet. And if he saw her, well, then, _fuck_ him.

_Jesus. This is going to have to be quick._

She concentrated on the circular motions, exactly in the right place, that should most rapidly fix the problem. This was no-nonsense, almost sport-self-fucking. And his voice unintentionally made it so much hotter.

"Seven."

She could do this. She _desperately_ wanted to sit down - and no doubt it would be safer to get out of his line of sight - but the rooftop was SO dirty, and she was so newly clean, she couldn't bear that thought.

"Six. Remember you need to leave time to dress, right?"

She'd nearly bitten through her lip. If he'd just KEEP talking, this would go a lot faster. The countdown was excellent, the circles were good, but she missed penetration. Good Lord, _when_ had she last done this? It had been, literally, months. Did she even remember how to do this in the most expeditious manner?

She realized exactly when he caught her. She heard him gasp, then groan. She heard the metal chaise _screech_ on the ground. She was SO. damn. close.

"Don't fucking stop, Shepard. Don't you _dare_ stop." His voice was way closer than she'd expected it would be, and it made her jump; her hands had left what they'd been doing; he grabbed her right wrist, and returned her fingers to where they'd been.

"The timer-"

"Fuck the timer. **Keep. Going.** "

She whimpered. He was standing a meter away, his hands now firmly set behind his back. God, he was almost in parade rest- That picture pretty much did it.

"That's it, _cabrona_ \- take it. It's right there."

_God. His voice._

Eliza came _way_ louder than she'd intended. In fact, to her chagrin, a startled flock of pigeons on the next rooftop over took flight at her considerable noise. She tried to quiet herself immediately, but she hadn't counted on James.

" _Again_."

She jerked violently at his tone - it was the 'command voice' she used so often, and hearing it now nearly bent her body in half. She whimpered.

"Catch up with me, Shepard. We'll be even - two for two. You cut that one off just because some fucking birds flew away. That's _insane_. You've been on edge all damn day, swinging from one emotional extreme to the next. Consider this fucking therapy. KEEP _GOING_."

Eliza screwed her eyes shut, but her hands _were_ still moving. She couldn't ignore the fact that, well, the damage was done, wasn't it? What more was there to lose? As long as she didn't verbalize what she actually wanted him to do to her right now, and he didn't actually _do_ it, well, then this was just watching.

_Right. Sure. Keep lying to yourself, Liza..._

"Faster. I can stall him a few minutes for you to clean up, but I suggest you pick up the pace."

"God, just keep _talking_ to me." Shit. She'd said that out loud. This... she was in permanent blush.

"Do you know the kind of discipline it's requiring for me not to slide my fingers inside you? You clearly like it; I've caught you almost do it to yourself twice. I know - the angle is awkward for you, standing, but it wouldn't be awkward for _me_ to do it."

 _Jesus Fucking Christ._ She couldn't stop the moans and whimpers.

"Watching you, _just_ watching you, _knowing_ that if I hadn't been an ass, those might be my fingers? The fact that this is happening and we have _zero_ time to make it into anything more? Is now the _worst_ fucking part of my day... and I was forced to endure being tickled for fifteen minutes straight and then had to scrub out a toilet."

Eliza caught herself on a laugh, and then whimpered again. She was aware, even though her eyes remained closed, that he'd gotten closer. She could smell him.

"Imagine it's me, down on my knees in front of you," he whispered. "You'd have the penetration then, for sure."

Suddenly she gasped and jerked. He reached out to grasp her shoulders, held her in place as she orgasmed under his hands, longer and louder than before. He waited a few seconds and then let go, stepping back.

"I have to get out of here," he growled. His voice was raspy with tension. "This is... I've used just about every fucking scrap of restraint I have, today."

Over on the chaise, the timer started beeping.

"I'll be downstairs. Try to make it quick."

He, turned, grabbed his omni-tool, and was gone.

\--

Eliza wondered if she would have recognized Admiral Hackett had Vega not specifically told her "Hackett is here." She was impressed enough with his appearance and language skills than she had to at least consider it.

_He... sort of looks like a hoodlum._

The gray-white military haircut was partially covered by a black knit cap. His beard was dirty, matted with something. He'd covered what _might_ be standard-issue uniform pants and T-shirt with a black wool coat that must have been hellishly hot to wear during the day. Most of all, however, he and Osorio and James were all speaking in Spanish - and laughing at in-jokes - as if they'd known each other for years.

_I'd be... well, probably damn jealous. If I wasn't... well, so damn relaxed._

Shepard gritted her teeth against a blush. _Not here, not now_.

_"Le pregunté 'Es la pesca bien aquí?' Respondió: 'No, la pesca es genial aquí' "_

Laughter from Vega and Osorio and even a smile from Wilcott, who apparently had no idea what was going on either. Or, was _faking_ ignorance _really_ well. Shepard wouldn't put it past him to start speaking Spanish by tomorrow. Of course, there was also the fact that _he_ had his omni-tool and could pull up a translation whenever he cared to. She was still reduced to hacking building codes from _goddam memory_.

She cleared her throat. Two men swung around to greet her; Vega, who'd placed himself so as to watch the door, nodded at her. His eyes were still dark, knowing, and manic, but his voice was perfectly even when he said "There she is. I told you she hadn't actually run off yet."

Hackett pursed his lips at James, and then gave Eliza the once-over, twice. "You _do_ look better," he affirmed. "The Lieutenant told me you had transitioned well, and that you're the reason this place actually looks like a functional apartment." He smiled, a small but satisfied curve of the lips. "You'll get a grocery delivery tomorrow; for tonight I figured someone could go to the take-out place downstairs." He eyed Osorio and Vega. You should get to know those people, obviously. Blend in. They'll be valuable eyes and ears, as long as they don't figure out who Shepard is."

The men all nodded, even the ignored Wilcott... who then said the worst possible thing Eliza could think of:

"We have two native Spanish speakers, and two native English speakers. I know it wasn't in the plan, but... do we switch room assignments?"

Eliza blinked. _The **hell** are you bunking with ME._

James beat her to it. "I thought about that, too," he murmured. "But I came to the conclusion that it wouldn't be a great idea, given your reaction to her biotic field. We need you at the top of your game.... not so strung out from ignoring her energy that you make some dumb mistake and get killed out there."

Shepard tried to merely nod in agreement, not dance on WIlcott's grave. _Hoo-rah for coming up with a logical reason, not resorting to the fact that I'd be tempted to snuff him in his sleep._

"We _do_ need a cover for Shepard, though. Are the people in 3-A _also_ Hispanic?"

Hackett nodded. "Everyone in the building is, except Shepard. And maybe _Wilcott_ \- because who the heck really knows about that mongrel?"

Wilcott suddenly sighed loudly, arched a brow at the Admiral, and distinctly said _"Bien, de acuerdo, usted gana, escuche."_

_I FUCKING KNEW IT._

Vega jerked his head to glare at Wilcott, but Osorio just chuckled. "Can not keep anything from _Zorro de Plata_ , eh?"

Shepard turned to Hackett. She was no longer amused. _Or_ quite so relaxed. "That's IT. I _need_ my fucking omni-tool back."

_And apparently to learn Spanish, like, yesterday._

\--

"You still want to spar with me, Vega? Even though you know that now - if I wanted to - I could just drain your life force?"

Once Hackett had left, Vega had run downstairs and placed the food order the Admiral had suggested. Now they were all sitting around eating _tapas_ for dinner, and the ribbing over whether or not biotics could possibly be better fighters was in full-force. 

James arched a brow at her. "But you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't? Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it wouldn't be fair - using biotics in a spar."

Wilcott - or as she _should_ be thinking of him, Sergent Tomas Zavala, because that's how his _new_ set of fake documents identified him - snorted loudly. "Don't try telling that to a Vanguard. A _Sentinel_ might buy that shit. 'Specially one as powerful as Shepard. I'd go biotic on your ass in a heartbeat."

Shepard laughed reflexively, then frowned. She didn't _want_ to laugh at anything Wilcott - er, **Zavala** \- said. But... the man was suddenly less nervous, less shifty, less... overall annoying. He was less... _Justin Wilcott_ , she realized. He even _looked_ different, having darkened his hair color at some point after Hackett left. Her truly scary realization was that Tomas Zavala wasn't any more 'real' than Justin Wilcott had been. He was just more charming, and _way_ less skittish.

 _Need to remember that none of these_ personas _is an actual person. I wonder... is this what became of Kaidan? I can't even imagine._

She shook her head to clear it, and turned to James. "It wouldn't be fair? So... my being able to throw you into a wall with my mind isn't fair, but you being able to throw me into a wall with your _body_ is? I see. And how do you explain the difference?"

"Don't get me wrong, Commander - I'll take trained, powerful muscles over biotics any day. They're always there, you know? I don't have to wait through some sort of _cooling-off_ period-"

"Cooling- _down_ period," Zavala interjected.

"-and I don't have an amp someone can take away and suddenly - I can't even stand up by myself." James smirked. "But you're stupidly over-powered, Shepard. You can fight - I know how fast you can move, and how strong you are besides. You gotta lay down _something_ to give me a chance."

Eliza tried not to actually glare at him, but she could feel her eyes narrowing. _Nice attempt at flattery. I'll show you 'can't stand up.' You **ass.**_

"Fine, you're on."

\--

Obviously, the other two Marines really wanted to stay for the after-dinner show, but Vega (wisely, in her opinion, given everything) told them off in a riff of Spanish words that her omni-tool translated as "What the fuck? Get the hell out of here and go check the building. Go get your fucking work done."

It was utterly amazing to have her omni-tool back. The moment Hackett handed it to her was almost sweeter than his smuggling her dog tags back via Liara. She re-installed a couple of applications the Alliance techs had deleted (and whose deletion was reversible, if you knew what you were doing). She did some basic data entry of stuff she'd been holding onto in her head: dates, contact numbers, coordinates. She also swiftly found out that her messaging software was still disabled; that was the first thing they'd done when they'd taken her in, before they'd decided to confiscate omni-tool and amp.

 _You assholes couldn't just allow me to write and deliver a few personal messages? I could almost certainly hack through the firewall tonight... but now that I have the damn thing back, I can't bear to lose it again if the Committee threw a tantrum over my having unrestricted extranet access. What **kills** me is that what I'd miss_ most _right now would be the ability to fucking translate Spanish. How the mighty have fallen._

So she'd be good. She wouldn't even Neural Shock Vega.

_Probably._

He was pushing the meager living room furniture - two coffee tables, one of which he'd started using as a desk, and two lamps - flush against the walls, and had managed to clear a vaguely five square meter area in which they could try to kill each other.

It finally felt like her head was on somewhat straight. But she recognized that she was still too keyed up, too... aggressive. She _wanted_ this fight, wanted it very badly, and that made her uneasy. She'd actually hurt people back in Basic, when she first started training in the service: kids who'd joined who _didn't_ grow up on the streets, _didn't_ know how to fight. After the dispensation of _many_ dirty tricks, and _many_ broken and bruised body parts, they'd learned to give her a wide berth.

Of course, she didn't have to do any of that with Vega. She just had to keep away from him. And the thought of him basically having to chase her, utterly unable to even get a grip on her, was so incredibly pleasurable that she realized _that TOO_ was dangerous.

 _OK, Eliza. Just_ beat _him. Don't beat **on** him._

"There a time limit to this bout, or do you expect me to go for a pin?" She eyed his huge frame skeptically.

_I could absolutely pin you, Vega, unless you're way more flexible than you look. You LOOK like I could probably lock a joint and end this quickly. But, in case I'm wrong, you need to start thinking I'm so worried about you beating me that I want to run out the clock._

James shoved his desk-table another meter, and turned to her with a wide grin. "We're doing so well with countdowns, sweetheart, let's go for it."

Eliza gritted her teeth. _Asshole. That's gonna cost you._

"You think... Fifteen minutes is too long?"

_If you give me fifteen minutes, I _am_ going to utterly humiliate you, even **without** biotics._

"That's a long time for me to pin you to the floor without taking liberties, Shepard."

Her jaw clenched a _bit_ harder, until she suddenly worried about the state of the teeth she hadn't exactly been brushing. She intentionally relaxed and then stretched her mandible. "So, what, ten? Five?" 

_I will gauge my humiliation of your person to your answer._

"How about we split the difference? Three matches, five minutes each, best two out of three. Give us a chance to size each other up."

 _Smart._ Don't _ever forget that he's **not** actually some stupid jock, no matter what he looks like, no matter how many dumb jokes he cracks. Remember you nearly killed him two days ago; he's not going to be that easy to sucker._

"Sounds fair." She smiled sweetly. "Since we're so worried about _fairness._ "

"Shepard?" He cracked his knuckles, squatted down to stretch his knees, pulled each arm behind his back, and then straight over his chest, stretching the shoulders. "You immobilized me earlier, easier than most people fall into bed. I haven't forgotten." He raised both brows at her. "I have _no_ illusions regarding you and 'fairness'."

She actually felt a blush start. _Dammit, how does he **do** that?_ She sighed. "Do I need to apologize?"

He grinned. "No. I just have a feeling you're either thinking about payback for what I encouraged you to do on the roof, _or_ you're thinking you'd better go easy on me because of my delicate man-feelings." He wagged his eyebrows. "I just want a good spar, _cabrona_. If you need payback so badly, I'll _let_ you humiliate me afterwards. I look _forward_ to it."

There. That was what made him so dangerous, Eliza realized. They accused _biotics_ of being able to read minds, but this fucking _plain, simple soldier_ was frightening good at it. And, even worse, he was intentionally trying to remind her of what happened a couple hours ago. He was trying to use it.

_Dangerous. Don't underestimate him. Technically, he's already sparring._

"Set the timer."

Vega's grin seemed perpetual at this point. "Whatever you say, boss."

_Don't get angry at him. Focus. If anything, make him angry at you._

"That's a good attitude, Vega. Try not to misplace it."

Finally, the grin slipped, just a bit. His eyes narrowed at her and he nodded slightly. He called up the chron and typed in a five-minute delay. "Say when."

"Now's fine."

He hit the button and instantly sprang at her. If she hadn't been ready for exactly that move, it might have been a short fight. As it was, she side-stepped at the last second, and swung out a bent leg. Her knee connected with his abdomen with a solid _thud_ noise and his immediate expelled breath. She then slid away, not even deigning to follow up.

James remained bent over for approximately five seconds longer than she expected him to. He was SO solidly-muscled, she'd tried to gauge her roundhouse precisely; to knock the wind out of him, but not actually _damage_ him. Had she miscalculated?

"Solid hit, Shepard." He carefully stood up. "You're, what, sixty kilos? Maybe sixty-five with all the cybernetics?" He started to stalk her, far more cautiously this time.

"Are you _seriously_ asking me my _weight_ , Vega?" Eliza arched a brow at him, fully aware of what it did to him when she used it to taunt him. "That's a red flag on your 'gentleman' status _for sure_."

"I'm just saying that you're approximately half my weight, but you hit like a fucking _mech_."

Quite suddenly, he slid into a horse stance that lowered his center of gravity significantly, and swung his back elbow around at her ribs. She blocked with a palm heel strike across her body at the last second, but the elbow had been a feint; the reverse grab that resulted from him swinging his hips back toward her with momentum caught her around the waist and one leg. He tossed her to the floor with some force, and it took dipping into her non-human speed to propel her to the edge of the square before he could pin her.

When she glanced back at him, he had rolled over one shoulder, using the force he'd committed to the pinning move to take him back to his feet. She revised her opinion of his hand-to-hand skills _significantly_ upward.

_Fuck. He's not the only one who needs to be more cautious._

"This is where *I* remember what happened when I struck the wall two days ago. That - despite how small you seem - you're all fire, all _go_ energy. When you hit something, you mean business." He smirked. "And where _you_ maybe realize that, despite what I look like, I have a _little_ subtlety, some _ju_ to my MMA." He grinned viciously. "See, I _told_ you this would be fun."

He had a point. She'd already retired her assumption that he'd be easy to joint-lock. He was far more limber than she'd realized. _OK, next plan_. He came at her again, throwing an obvious haymaker that she nonetheless ducked, and when the uppercut followed immediately, she was ready. She half-fell, half-launched herself backwards, brought her legs together, and _kicked him_ in the abdomen pretty much as hard as she could while braced against the floor.

If he'd weighed even thirty kilos less, or if she'd used even a fraction of her normal amped biotic power, he might have indeed sailed out the open window. As it was, he crashed into the wall beneath the window, and sat there, stunned.

The timer went off.

Shepard picked herself up off the floor and brushed imaginary (he'd done a good job cleaning the living room) dust off her butt. "We're gonna call that a win for me."

\--

Eliza had been sorely tempted to let him win the next round. Mostly because he'd picked himself off the floor with a hand gripping the window frame, and _bowed_ to her, low, head actually looking at the floor. Even as she bowed back, not quite as low, she had to wonder who'd trained him.

"Going to ground was stupid, Eliza," he murmured. "But holy _shit_ can you kick."

She reluctantly acknowledged his point. "I wouldn't ever do that in a _real_ fight, and - now that you've seen it - I'll likely never try it on you again even in a spar."

He grinned. "At least I don't think you broke two of my ribs this time."

Shepard winced. "Seriously, though... do we _have_ medigel?"

James laughed, then winced, rubbing a fist over his abdomen, checking the rectus abdominus for tender points where her heels had dug in. "Pretty sure Wil-, er, _Zavala_ has a full medkit. He's technically our medic on this mission." James rolled his eyes. "I'd have to be at death's door to ask him for anything, though. You KNOW he's over there _just waiting_ for one of us to tell him what happened."

She nodded. "Do you want to beg off another match?"

James straightened. "Hell, no. I'm going to insist until my last breath that you just got lucky on our first spar, Commander. _That's_ what's going in the history books."

This statement pretty much sealed his fate on the second - and last - bout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i like what i ended up with. i sort of wish YCD (Your Cruise Director) and L.R. Bowen could read it. they always said "Write it the way you like it." if it's a little too explicit and this is your last end note, i'll miss ya!
> 
> in that vein, there is a reference to another song on my 'fic playlist in here ("Dangerous", by Depeche Mode.)
> 
> if i lost you in the Justin Wilcott - Tomas Zavala transition, i'd love feedback as to how/where you think it happened. i re-wrote that section, clarifying the change, a couple times, and i liked what i ended up with, but i still wonder if it's confusing.
> 
> if i lost you during the fight scene, ditto - i'd love some feedback. there's a lot of specific fight choreography in there, and i've added a breakdown below the Spanish primer for anyone who cares. the GREAT news is that now that Shepard has her omni-tool back, you'll probably see way more *inline* Spanish translations.
> 
> on that note, if you're a native speaker and my efforts are laughable, PLEASE COMMENT. i'm going off a few different websites, including Spanish Dictionary.com, but i wouldn't turn down personal help!
> 
> your Spanish (and other) primer:
> 
> Le pregunté 'Es la pesca bien aquí?' Respondió: 'No, la pesca es genial aquí' ~ I asked if the fishing is good here, and he responded "No. The fishing is GREAT here."  
> Bien, de acuerdo, usted gana, escuche. ~ All right, all right, you win.  
> Zorro de Plata ~ Silver Fox; an allusion to Hackett being an old, clever man from Buenos Aires (city is known as the Queen of Silver)  
> "Zavala" means wide’ or ‘broad’ or ‘extensive. Justin/Tomas/? is quite the joker.
> 
> A roundhouse is a side kick, contact surface is usually knee, shin, or ball of the foot (some disciplines instruct kicking with the top flat of the foot, but it's easier to break your own bones that way). Hip of the kicking leg rises, the quad contracts, and then - based on distance - some part of the leg makes contact when the arc completes. The better the hip swing, the more force. In the situation I describe above, the natural follow-up to that kick would be a skull/head grab, bashing the front of the face into the knee.
> 
> Horse stance is a bent-legged stance in which the feet are perpendicular to each other, and the person's rear end drops toward the ground. It's easier to roll a person over your front leg if you're trying to drop them, and harder to get thrown yourself. Especially if, as in this case, you weigh significantly more than the person you're fighting. It's a good stance for James in a spar, since he can take a lot of damage. And you will probably get hit if you commit your weight in this way, then fail to actually grapple your opponent.
> 
> A palm heel strike is exactly what it sounds like. Imagine I threw a punch at your mid-section (in this description, it's an elbow, but same idea), and you instinctively threw your right hand up and across your body to smack that punch away. It's a good, solid block... but it leaves the entire side of your body - in this case the right side - exposed.
> 
> A "haymaker' is that terrible out-flung punch you see in all the old Western movies. it's a horrible attack and don't ever use it. But if someone swings at you, let their momentum carry that punch past you and then attack their open side. just saying. an uppercut is a punch up from below (often with knees slightly bent for power) and straight up under the chin of your opponent. if someone the size of James connected with your skull at that angle, they could snap your neck, so educated guess is that James pulls this... but it doesn't matter in the end.
> 
> Lastly, a bow like that, in karate, is an obeisance called "rei", a show of respect that Shepard returns. James, however, just couldn't leave it at that. we know from his discussions with Garrus how fond he is of 'creative history.'


	14. Cover Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What actually happened during the second bout. A whole heck of a lot of backstory. A whole heck of a lot of semi-unreliable time-shifting narration in addition to several shifting identities. A nickname explained. Avoidance. Shopping. Tools returned. And the expected reunion foreshadowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a TW (trigger warning) and a note: 
> 
> it has always been part of this Shepard's backstory that she was raped as a teenager in New York City by a fellow Tenth Street Reds gang member. *however*, given current Real Life events, I'd considered not engaging with it. the thing is, it really is part of her story, and a significant part of the story's plot. then I realized - maybe up to half of women in the armed forces face this bullshit when they enlist, and i'd like to think there are women out there who faced it and came out with the attitude that no matter what, they were going to survive. i'd also like to think that SOME day, the horror that Jessica Guillen likely faced won't be so damn commonplace. 
> 
> we like to think of the Mass Effect universe as having a far more decent military; we assume that humans will have learned better communication, gender interactions, and consent ethics by the time we achieve something as monumental as space travel. in the case of this story, Shepard was abused before enlistment (by a family member, ALSO sadly all too common) and has the Null Room to thank for basically breaking down her mental shields and coping mechanisms.
> 
> knowing that, if you want to skip the second section, you will miss most of the monologue-hints regarding what happened to her as a teenager.

The question of whether or not there would be rooftop retribution in the form of any flavor of 'humiliation' was tabled... after Shepard downed Vega with a devastating groin shot.

It was the next morning. Shepard stirred in her bed: alone, still half-asleep, and _loathe_ to actually wake up to face consequences. Sick at heart with remorse, at how hard she'd kicked him.

Kane had taught her that particular trick when she was only twelve. He'd told her that he knew she was going to be beautiful, and powerful. He decided she needed to know how to defend herself, and sensed the requisite... _toughness_ in her; a willingness to do anything required to survive.

As was the case with most of the dirty tricks he'd showed her (such as the falling-double front-kick) it was something you only ever used _once_ on someone, because the set-up was obvious (most feints were), and they'd be wise to it forever.

_Like a ridiculously-obvious haymaker that gave way to a reverse uppercut. As if I wouldn't expect him to replace that half-ass strike with a better one._

Kane had been a big man. Not as big as Vega, certainly, but he'd likely topped two meters and a hundred kilos. Men (even huge ones with very well-developed thighs and equally-well-developed delusions of invincibility) usually had something of a 'sixth sense' when it came to protecting the family jewels. It was the chief reason Kane had trained her differently, and Shepard had trained her recruits the same way, cautioning them to go for the face (especially the eyes), the throat, an open rib shot, or a vulnerable joint, like the knee or ankle.

\--

Still allowing herself to wake up slowly, pathetically grateful (once she opened her eyes) that she hadn't actually destroyed anything last night, Eliza reassured herself that she was safe in her own bed, and she may have had another nightmare... but nothing was broken.

Slowly, her remorse morphed into a crushing guilt. There were no two ways around it: she'd panicked. It had been another panic attack. And probably yet _another one_ in the middle of the night.

She still didn't know _why_ they were happening. She thought, maybe, if someone asked her who she trusted most in the world right now, she'd probably rank Lieutenant James Vega a strong third. Even Joker had let her down enough times that he'd fallen to fourth or fifth.

And... the first fight had been _fine_. Fun, even. Like dancing.

But that strange adrenaline surge she'd experienced before the spar mysteriously abandoned her afterwards. All she'd wanted to do was head back to her room and fall into bed. She'd thought about it for a few seconds, then realized she _couldn't_ back out: after Vega's crack about her "getting lucky" during the first bout, she knew she'd never hear the end of it if she forfeited.

Then... she got distracted.

It happened fast: a sweeping kick that made her commit her weight to her reverse foot, followed by a swift joint kick that she partially avoided by going to ground, rather than ending up with a sprained knee. But then he was just suddenly _on top of her_ , and he was **so big** , and she _couldn't move_ , and it didn't feel like yesterday, it was more like when she was fourteen and-

_Breathe, Eliza._

It took her a few moments of breathing into her pillowcase to ward off the hyperventilation, but it worked.

_This... this isn't good._

All of **this** was _supposed_ to be **healed**. When her biotics _really_ kicked in, at sixteen, and she'd gotten an amp, and she could basically down somebody from across the street if they even looked at her funny, it had started to seem like what had happened to her when she was younger had been some sort of horrible dream. It faded.

It had come back a few times while she was still a teenager; there _had_ been a few panic attacks, it was true. Each time, the man who'd tutored her, taught her to fight, and eventually stolen an amp for her, had redoubled his efforts to train her biotic powers, especially how to Reave.

She remembered how she'd actually cried when Kane delivered her to an Alliance recruiting station with the advice "Don't look back, Eilís."

Almost as if she'd agreed to his plan, there were no panic attacks all through Basic. She'd been pinned nearly daily, and - secure in the knowledge that she could Throw just about _anything_ off of her - she was OK. Nightmares, sure, but everyone had nightmares. Nothing particularly awry during her deployments. Hell, even the Blitz, and she always figured maybe she _should have_ have collected some extreme emotional scars on Elysium.

 _Fucking N7 training was a_ field trip, _compared to whatever the hell **this** is._

She'd had... well, OK, at least three panic attacks. In as many days. If she was scrupulously honest... maybe there had been more.

And last night, when that cold panic gripped her, she hadn't thought twice about faking a hard fall onto her right wrist, carefully allowing the joint to give way as if she'd broken it under his weight. Then - crying out loudly, as if in pain.

And **he** hadn't thought twice about immediately rolling to the side and yelling " _SHIT_ , Shepard, are you OK?"

She _firmly_ believed... had to believe... that would have been the end of it. She _would_ have 'fessed up... she _knew_ she would have.

If he hadn't reached out toward her.

That was when her snap-kick caught him exactly where it would end the fight immediately. As she'd been trained.

 _It didn't work on Finn, though. Kane left out the part where the guy attacking you actually had to_ give a damn _about someone other than himself for that one to work. Probably should have been more explicit on that point._

Eliza shuddered, biting her lip.

_He also should have told me I wasn't the only person he'd been teaching to Reave._

\--

It took Shepard another half hour to pull herself together enough to even unlock the door to her bedroom and, well, _peek_ out through the half-open door. She felt like a tremendous _fraud_ the entire time.

_Big Alliance Hero. Afraid to leave her room._

James was sitting on the couch, calmly looking at her. He didn't move, didn't speak. Neither did she. After a minute, it started to get awkward, but Eliza honestly had _no idea_ what to say, other than...

"I'm so sorry, James."

Now that she'd choked out an apology, she blushed at the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt and he was barely wearing short - _very short_ \- cut-off jeans. It was already hot in the apartment, so she didn't blame him, but she did look away. That was all it took for him to reach down, grab his T-shirt from yesterday, and shrug back into it.

Her guilt redoubled.

"Would you feel better if I had the uniform pants on, too?"

Her head whipped back around and her eyes flooded with tears. _He knows. JESUS._

"I- No. This is... _What the fuck!_ " Her voice got louder, ragged, and she leaned her head against the door frame, softly banging it against the wood.

"Hey, knock it off." He stood up, then obviously thought better of moving in her direction.

"I'd love to - you think I can do biotics without it?"

Vega snorted out a laugh, but when she glanced at him, his face had reverted to 'grave' pretty quickly. "Please sit, Shepard. Over there, if it's easier." He pointed to the soft reclining chair in the corner by the bathroom. It would keep her at least three meters away from him. She bit through her lip, but nodded and took a seat.

"Thing the First: you do _not_ owe me the story of why you had another panic attack last night simply because my dangly bits paid the price. OK?"

She started, bit her lip again, and nodded. "But if I want-"

He held up a hand and she shut her mouth. "Thing the Second: I will listen to _anything_ you want to tell me, and I'll help if I can. OK?"

Eliza started bawling.

Vega wasn't quick to close ranks anymore. He sat on the couch and waited until the sobbing became mere crying, and the crying became sniffling and hiccups, and finally everything went quiet. To Eliza, it felt like they'd been carefully sitting a respectful distance apart for nearly a year. In reality it was more like ten-twenty minutes.

"Better? Some?" He face was still creased with concern.

"Yeah. Some."

"Would food help?"

Shepard blinked and thought about it and winced. _What the_ hell? _He's **right**. I didn't eat_ nearly _enough last night._

Her chagrin was apparently written on her face, because he stood up and said "Stay there. I'll be right back."

When he came back out, he had a huge plate of eggs and toast, with some sort of fruit - pear maybe? - sliced up on the side. He also had a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear, and he cracked the first smile she'd seen on him since the end of their first spar.

"Where do you want it?"

She stood up and dragged the other coffee table over to her chair. "Here's fine." She paused, then blurted out 'I swear I won't hit you again if you bring it over."

Vega smiled wistfully. "I'm not afraid of you, Shepard, but I don't want to take the chance of making... _whatever_ this is... any worse. I would have bet an _entire year's stipend_ that you weren't afraid of me, that you actually found me - well - whatever. Not scary, at least. But I saw your face last night as I - you know - fell over and nearly threw up." He smiled faintly. "Eliza, this is one of those 'stop apologizing' situations. My read is that you _lost interest_ in the spar after the first bout. You tried to stop it. I don't know if it was because you threw me into another wall and got freaked out when you hurt me again, or _what_ \- but _next_ time just **tell** me I'm being a _fucking asshole_ and that you want to _stop_ , OK?"

Shepard sniffled again, and forced herself to nod. He walked slowly toward her, and slid the plate onto the low table.

"Sit down and eat something. Also, you didn't hurt me that badly." He paused and shrugged. "OK, I'm pretty bruised up, but nothing is broken." He stopped and looked at her. "Do you want to see it?"

She blinked. She realized she _could_ have reassured herself when she got out of the room and he was shirtless, but she'd just felt so ODD about it. Which was sort of stupid after everything they'd shared. She nodded.

James carefully grasped the hem edge of his gray T-shirt and lifted it six or seven centimeters up over his abs.

Eliza flinched. The area over his intestines was ALL dark blue and green, with darker blackish marks right at the denim line, just below the belly button, where the balls of her feet had struck him.

"You need medigel. I could have caused an internal bleed. I can't believe you didn't go get looked at last night. What the _fuck_."

He dropped the T-shirt. "I'm obviously all right. I actually _did_ stay up late enough to see if I was going to start to feel nauseous or run a fever, OK? I'm not a dumb private." He sighed "You need to sit down and eat. Look, _if_ you do that, _maybe_ I'll let you go over and get a dose from Zavala."

She thought about it for a second, nodded, and sat. He retreated to the sofa. They were both quiet for about five minutes while she ate, and he watched to make sure that she ate.

Finally she mumbled "Um... what about, uh, the other?"

He snorted again. "Not black and blue. Not broken. NOT something I _ever_ want to feel again, though."

Eliza felt herself trying to laugh and cry at the same time. Her face crumpled.

"Shepard, it was an _cool_ feint, perfectly done. It was a fair out. I'm impressed as all hell at whoever taught it to you, and a bit mortified I fell for it. Would..." He shifted on the sofa, uneasy. Eventually, he sighed and said "I did it again, though. Didn't I? I realized last night - if I hadn't actually reached for you, you wouldn't have completed the move."

Eliza stopped eating. The toast was suddenly too dry to choke down; she thought she was about to gag. Off in the distance she heard James sigh again and say "OK, _just eat_. I'm gonna shut the hell up."

She really tried, but she couldn't swallow. She grabbed the coffee and sat back in the chair, sipping. After twenty seconds or so, she put her head all the way back against the chair, shut her eyes, and said "I- don't know. I'm honestly not sure. I _think_ that if you hadn't tried to touch me... but, James, I _know_ you were only going to check my wrist, I mean, that's the whole point of the trick, but-"

She paused and opened her eyes as he said, "Eliza, I get it."

She expelled a long, slow breath. "I _want_ to believe I would have pulled back and let you know I was fine. When I woke up this morning, I was SURE I would have. But then... I came out of my room, and-" She shook her head back and forth a bunch of times. This was insanely frustrating.

 _Leaving me wondering - yet again - what the_ absolute _fuck is wrong with me._

James repeated, "I get it."

She leaned back in the chair again, feeling guilty about _everything_ \- the cold eggs, the mangled toast, the lukewarm coffee, the HUGE fucking bruises on his stomach...

"You remember our deal, right? I'm not gonna waste medigel on some tiny fucking bruises unless you eat breakfast. If I need to re-heat the eggs and make you more toast, I will."

Suddenly she wanted to cry again. _JESUS, NO MORE TEARS, FOR FUCK'S SAKE._

Shepard ate every last scrap of the breakfast he'd made, before skating out of the apartment to get medigel from Zavala.

\--

"So... this is Tomas Zavala, huh?"

The man who'd answered the door in response to her knock didn't look _any_ thing like Private Justin Wilcott. It was _uncanny_. He'd gone a day - two? - without a shave, and his facial hair had grown in enough to give him a scruffy beard and mustache. He'd dyed it black to match his new hair color. He'd given himself several visible tattoos, a half-sleeve on one of his arms and more showing above the collar of his shirt, like Vega's. His T-shirt was red, and ragged.

"Those, um, aren't _real_ , are they? I mean - how could they be?"

He'd grinned, opened the door wide, and gestured. She reluctantly sidled past him and immediately turned to face him. She noted his living room was mostly clean; he'd done a good job on it.

"It's a trade secret, _chica_ ," his eyes sparkled, and she rolled her eyes at his use of the... endearment? "They're better than a temporary, but not exactly permanent. They should hold up for the few months we'll be here."

 _I honestly wouldn't recognize him as Wilcott if I hadn't_ known _that this apartment was his. Unnerving._

Then she put out feelers and 'tasted' his energy field. _Ah. Gotcha_. He still 'felt' the same.

"I'm here for a shot of medigel." She deliberately left off who it was for, but Zavala laughed.

"Did you hurt the poor kid so badly he couldn't crawl over here himself, or is he just being stubborn because it's 'only a flesh wound'?"

Shepard arched a brow at the Vanguard. She carefully gathered enough energy to power a small mass effect field, one that only lightly touched his aura, but clearly could grow to engulf him fairly rapidly if not stopped. "I don't suppose you'd like to just fetch me the damn stim?"

Zavala might be striving for an entirely different persona, but damn if he didn't blanche in approximately the same way as Wilcott. "Yeah, um, I'll get right on that."

"Good idea."

_Great, now I'm bullying people again. Super, Eliza. Just super._

When Zavala came back, he actually had a small paper bag in his hands. He held it out and waited until Eliza had opened it before he said "I was waiting for you, actually. Vega said he'd send you over when you woke up. Your new documents are in there - IDs, credit chip, codes for your omni-tool when they let you back on the extranet; just load them." He watched as she dipped into the bag and took out a bottle.

"Temporary hair dye. Like the tattoos; it'll only wash out with a special chemical-" He nodded as she pulled out the second bottle, "that one. If you want a few tattoos, let me know. There is also a package of disposable contact lenses in there. The light green is pretty distinctive. "

Shepard raised both brows. She was unwillingly impressed. "Colors?"

Zavala shrugged "Brown eyes, dark brown hair. Your skin is so light, Vega argued the black would be too drastic, and I agreed. I actually thought the medium brown would be better, but gave in when he objected." Tomas coughed out the word "obsessive" and Shepard blinked, then laughed.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

Zavala rolled his eyes. "He chose everything - your hair and eye color, name, occupation, your relationship - you guys are cousins, by the way."

_Gee... that puts a whole new complexion on the roof incident._

"So..." She fished out the ID and flipped it open "Who..."

Zavala looked pained. "As I said, _don't blame me_. It was _not_ my call."

_**Lola Gallardo?** The FUCK?_

\--

She didn't get a chance to berate the Lieutenant on his abysmal choice of a name; he was gone when she returned to the apartment. 

_So much for 'if you eat, I'll use the medigel.'_

James had cleaned up after himself in the kitchen, though: a fact that amazed her, pleased her, and nearly made her burst into tears again, which-

_I've MORE than had enough of the bullshit crying._

Since it was one of the few things that seemed to help, she showered. Then she towel-dried her hair, as the bottle directed, and carefully dyed it the requisite brown. She even meticulously dabbed a bit of the color gel on her eyebrows, raking it through with a scrap of rag, and was pleased at the results. The brown contacts turned her eyes into approximately the same hazel as Vega's.

 _Cousins_.

It was still a bit weird to have to (get to?) choose something to wear. She had relished the secondhand (but new-to-her) clothes Anderson had provided; it was true that _anything_ would have been better than her prison wardrobe, but he'd actually gone out of his way (or, more likely, he'd made a staffer go out of their way) to provide underthings, the hoodie, three pairs of old, soft jeans that fit, five T-shirts, and a leather jacket that had seen better days, but that Eliza fell in love with on sight. She cursed the weather for being too hot for her to wear it.

She cut off two of the pairs of denims, pursing her lips as she chose a length many centimeters longer than Vega's.

_Screw all of you. Despite her awful name, "Lola" is not a shameless slut like her "cousin."_

She'd noticed that - between her additions and Vega's - the dirty clothes bin in the bathroom was getting full. Even though she probably hadn't eaten or slept enough, and had pieced together very little Spanish, she was intensely curious about the neighborhood and intended to get out. Now she had an excuse: there had to be a laundry.

If she were honest, she was also pretty damn curious as to how far her implanted tracker would allow her to travel before it alerted Vega, Osorio, Zavala... or all three of them. Maybe even the police?

She'd pretty much known one had been implanted during the exams. It was the only logical move. It annoyed the _shit_ out of her, however, that none of them had _ever_ deigned to mention it, even on the shuttle ride out of the facility.

As everyone took their turn stepping off the shuttle onto the brick courtyard of the local school/shuttle pad, she'd turned to her mute pilot and said, sweetly, "Don't suppose you're taking the tracker out before you leave, are you?"

He'd jumped in his seat, swearing, and she'd laughed at him. Turned to Osorio and Zavala (well, at that point, Wilcott) and said "What? You fuckers thought I didn't know?" and then turned to James with a cocked eyebrow. He'd nodded, looked a bit grim, and said "Let's just go."

So there was a radius; she just didn't know how big it was. It was time to find out.

\--

They slept apart again. She didn't _expect_ anything different, but she... maybe... missed him?

The next morning he turned the living room into a functional office, by wrestling an actual desk and a three-meter-long folding screen upstairs. He did a quick furniture rearrangement that put the couch opposite the kitchen (rather than opposite her bedroom door) and moved his new desk to where the couch had been. Thereafter, he used the screen to partition off his 'bedroom' at night, and the 'office' during the day.

\--

By the morning of their fourth day, Shepard finally realized he was _always_ going to have the mattress folded away by the time she left her room. Even setting her chron for 06:00, she hadn't caught him in bed.

He was, however, in the shower.

She didn't actually go into the bathroom. She stood outside, having to pee, very much wishing he _wasn't_ in there. It reminded her of the tight quarters of the null room. He'd been... gallant. Maybe it would be OK if she knocked? It felt... daring, a bit invasive, yet... strangely intimate and satisfying. All at once.

She tried it.

"Uh, yeah?" he yelled back.

"I kind of need to pee. How much longer?"

There was a pause. To Eliza's overactive imagination, it felt like a disgruntled pause, and she wondered if she'd interrupted... _something_ solutional.

"Can you wait two minutes?"

 _He waited WAY longer for me, to spare me the embarrassment of having to either listen to him using the porta-john, or freaking plugging my ears like a two-year-old_.

"Yup. Thank you!"

_I could have gone in. He probably would have turned around because... clear shower curtain. And me peeing. But I could have seen... his back. Side. Right._

Instead, she retreated to her room, wishing with all her might that she... was different. If she hadn't... well, things could be... She sighed. _So_ much different right now.

Honestly, with her rank in flux - because seriously, did Anderson _really_ think she had any illusions as to the outcome of this trial? 'Shepard keeps her commission' he'd said before they left the Null Room. That sounded great, but... he'd had to stick on the qualifier 'for now.'

A qualifier that he'd repeated, just last night.

_So, yeah. We **all** know what happens in a few weeks, when the trial is over._

If she really wanted to do something so completely reckless and stupid, she was running out of time. _Someone_ would arrive today. Eliza had her heart set on it being Liara. She knew Hackett _had_ contacted Liara that morning they left the null room, and James had eventually told her (when she got back with clean laundry) that he'd spoken to the Admiral, and Hackett _had_ finally heard back from Dr. T'Soni.

Her mind refused to believe that fate could hate her so damn much as to smack her in the face again with Kaidan Alenko.

Whoever it ended up being, it would be yet another person demanding her time and mental energy. Poking into her business. If she intended to be utterly, completely, insanely stupid... it definitely looked like the window was closing.

It was interesting to her that - after three days in which they'd merely danced around each other - she was still pretty sure she wanted to be incredibly stupid with James. At the end of the first day - which had started out so promising, and ended so wrong - she'd crawled into her bedroom thinking 'Well, _that_ 's over.' Next morning, the weirdness seemed to confirm it. She had been wary of him: his body, his skin, his tread.

That had lasted all of a day.

The _second_ morning, as she watched him wrestle furniture into place and tried not to get in his way, she realized the wariness was gone. All she could think about was how much she wanted to jump him, maybe due to the fact that his arms and legs were glistening in the heat, and the T-shirt he wore all the time now was stuck to his body in various places, even though it was only 07:30. He looked warm, yes, but also... _hot_.

Yesterday hadn't been any better. After meeting the Ibarras the previous night, and casually mentioning that she could use some more clothing, she'd been invited by her pretty upstairs neighbor to visit a local secondhand store together. She'd picked out the essentials she'd been looking for - extra shorts and extra PJs - but she'd also ended up purchasing a dress solely due to the fact that she'd found herself thinking James would like it.

Eliza freely admitted that 'buying a pretty dress' felt more than a bit desperate, and she hated herself for it. But she also couldn't deny that part of her was excited to wear it, and see what James would say. Would _do_.

Adelia, of course, thought 'Lola' was 'angling for that dashing Mr. Zavala in 2-A'. Eliza could hardly blame her for that assumption, since James Vega - er, _Jaime Gallardo_ \- was supposed to be her _cousin_.

_Sometimes I think being caught and executed by Batarians would be preferable to trying to keep all these damn cover stories straight._

She'd returned to the apartment expecting to shower, fix her hair, and wear the green dress for dinner. She'd fully intended that they would finally talk. But she'd apparently spent way too much time choosing clothes. She walked into a boisterous reunion; both Zavala and Osorio had shown up for their second tapas dinner... along with Admiral Anderson.

\--

It _had_ been good to see David, and somewhat enlightening to hear how plans for the trial were proceeding. Still, a small voice inside her mind was throwing a tantrum. Yes, it had been amusing - after a rag-tag Anderson cussed him out in perfect Spanish - to watch James make good on his promise to get down on his knees and beg Anderson's forgiveness for the incorrect assumption this was a crappy safehouse. However, it had reminded her of the time in the null room when Vega had done that in front of her, and she - like an idiot - had fled.

Not to mention his harsh whisper on the roof.

_I had an intimate dinner for two planned, but it seems pretty damn obvious that James is doing everything in his power to not let us be alone together._

He was even taking some night patrols, which meant he woke up early to go out to work and then took a _siesta_ on the damn roof to catch up on sleep.

_Mierda!_

She was proud of the few swear words she'd picked up. She was just annoyed at how often she found herself using them in the last four days. Then Anderson had dropped the bomb that the tenant of 3-B would be coming in on Friday. He'd shared a significant glance with Zavala, and Eliza's stomach dropped out.

 _No. Hackett TOLD Vega he'd heard from Liara. It **has** to be her. SHIT, I need to talk to James before things get even_ more _complicated._

\--

Except... when she came back out after using the bathroom, James was already dressed to go 'patrol.' 

That was the term he and Zavala used in the apartment; in reality they were doing a few hours of day labor, picking up their pay, hitting a couple local bars for one drink each (which they reportedly never finished), and playing some pool (or poker, Shepard surmised), mining each contact they were making for neighborhood scuttlebutt. They came back to the apartments for _siesta_ , and then headed out again for another round until dinner. It was honestly an amazing cover.

This was how they knew that there were already some _gringos_ poking their noses into the neighborhood, asking questions, looking for a tall, green-eyed blond military woman. That was the gossipy day laborers, who usually never missed the opportunity to scam some credits. And it had been enough to prod Anderson into bringing her amp with him, and giving it to her just before he'd left.

The thing was- she'd hadn't put it in yet. She'd figured... if she was truly going to ask Vega if he wanted to... well, to do this, why take that chance?

Her mouth froze as she watched him gather up his baseball cap, the butterfly thermos (likely filled with ice-water instead of coffee), and the military duffel. He usually brought a change of shirt and a large bag of cookies from the take-out to day labor. The other men hadn't seemed to pick up on the fact that he was, in effect, bribing them. They just told him he must have a fantastic woman at home.

He was about to sail out the door, but something made him pause. His eyes met hers.

"What is it? You OK?"

"You're, uh, about to leave already."

He grunted. "Yeah, Zavala stayed up pretty late last night, apparently hitting _every_ local bar again, as well as two of the dicier clubs. He sent me a time-delayed wake up call for 05:00; the message advised that i should get my 'tail out of bed and make us some money', because he 'spent all our discretionary funds on wine and women.'

James grinned, which made Shepard's heart lighten in a way it hadn't for days. She was just about to ask him to _please_ consider having breakfast with her, so they could talk, when he added: "His message also had a rundown on the intel he got from his slide into iniquity, and wrapped up with him confiding that he wouldn't be 'up to dragging my tail in to dig foundations' in the morning. But he _strongly_ encouraged _me_ to leap out of bed and make sure I was chosen for the Hawks Ave job site. He thinks the men the _gringos_ hired are on that crew."

Eliza closed her mouth. "Ah."

James cocked his head at her. "Seriously, Shepard... what is it?"

Faced with the reality of Zavala's information, and Vega's obvious dedication to the mission, she just couldn't do it. She couldn't either propose a morning assignation and watch him willingly ignore his duty in favor of his personal desires, or (perhaps worse) listen to him trying to delicately explain that he would rather be out catching the Bad Guys than in her bed.

_Been there, done both. **Never** again._

"It's nothing. I can tell you later."

"If you're sure." He still looked concerned.

"Yeah."

\--

He was still gone when Anderson showed up at the apartment again.

With Kaidan Alenko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first, the truly observant may have noticed i'm now going on in metrics. i was mixing my units quite convivially, having a grand old time of it, until i suddenly realized that if i was going to do that - have Shepard and Vega on Imperial units as theoretical "Americans", and Zavala on metrics as an theoretical South American (maybe? Europe? Eden Prime? will we REALLY ever know?), etc - then it was just one more damn thing i had to keep track of. so if you've downloaded, well - look, i go back and edit willy-nilly just because i can ANYway. you *might* get the final version of this story sometime next year. until then, contents are subject to change.
> 
> the timeline in this chapter does jump around a bit, though i've tried to anchor it around things James is doing, while still being Shepard's POV. the intent is to give you her confusion, and i feel it probably requires a careful read-through, but hopefully makes the events clear. if it didn't work for you, drop a comment.
> 
> a note about names (OMG, people have a ton of NAMES now, don't they? and there are like, 400 people running around. holy crap)
> 
> "East Downside" is a pretty rough, supposedly ethnic neighborhood in Vancouver.
> 
> The Apartment Building: 1-A is a Spanish food take-out place that probably has a hideously clever name i will discover approximately five years after i finish the story. 1-B is Robert Osorio, acting as the building's manager. 2-A is Tomas Zavala (formerly Wilcott). 2-B (yes, i found that designation amusing) is Lola and Jaime Gallardo (AKA Shepard and James) . 3-A is Luis (famous battle) Ibarra and his wife Adelia (noble) Ibarra (means meadow or valley). 3-B is empty. for now.
> 
> and now that some of you know how i choose names for stories, how funny is it that "James" means "supplanter" (look, *i* didn't pick it, Kaidan). "Lola" actually means "Lady of Sorrows." damn, Bioware - well-played.
> 
> lastly, this Shepard's actual given name *is* "Eilís"; that's not a typo. it might become important at some point. maybe. i mean, how would i know? ;)
> 
> \--
> 
> all kidding aside, this was a rough chapter to write, especially after i gave you the Sexy Time stuff last chapter. it's the actual fall-out stuff from prison, and a huge part of the story. i promise, in terms of prose, we'll likely get through it fairly quickly, and a bit more on Shepard's background very soon, but - as you can probably guess - some of it won't be pretty. you also won't be getting it from her POV, which is somewhat intentional, so it should be easier to get through if you're triggered but still want to try to read the story.


	15. Supplanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of James trying to figure out what's REALLY going on. And meeting Kaidan. And eating. 
> 
> And replacements.

When Shepard slipped out to fetch him medigel three mornings ago, a stunned Lieutenant Vega had immediately called Admiral Hackett. Not to warn him about the panic attacks - he'd already tried that and seemingly been ignored - but to entreat the Admiral to redouble his efforts to persuade Dr. T'Soni to arrive posthaste. Hackett replied that he was afraid he'd gotten the brush-off; he'd received a generic "Noted and logged" response message, then nothing else.

James sat on the couch, confounded and somewhat frantic. He felt like a complete moron for not figuring out sooner that Shepard had almost certainly been seriously abused at some point, probably sexually assaulted. But he didn't want to file an official report on what he suspected (let alone relate the sequence of events that had led him to suspect it). He realized that it could be in her service record; perhaps the Admirals already knew. But _Vega_ hadn't been briefed. He had to wonder why Anderson and Hackett would have kept something like that from him, had they known.

 _I mean, certainly once they saw that she was being drugged, restrained, and pawed at by medical personnel every night, they'd have realized her having been restrained and assaulted before was_ Need To Know _, **right?**_

James had let his head fall into his hands, and allowed his fingers to yank at his crew-cut for several seconds.

Then he made a decision, and - ignoring the ache in his midsection - he went to pull on construction-friendly clothes, and removed himself from 2-B as quietly as he could.

\--

He was operating a Bobcat: a step up in terms of pay, and something that required a _bit_ of concentration, but he couldn't stop thinking about how strangely Shepard had been acting this morning. She hadn't said much all week; as far as he could tell, she was just getting acclimated to the new place, keeping on top of the cleaning, and staying out of his way. Since he'd pretty much decided that _him_ staying out of _her_ way - at least until Dr. T'Soni got here, hopefully today - was his Best Plan, he'd let it go. The lack of subsequent night terrors seemed to prove it had been a solid decision.

The excavator slipped a gear, and Vega allowed a long string of colorful Spanish to escape. He eased the machine back into a lower gear, and managed to force the transmission to pick up the slack. It was only a matter of time before the damn thing broke down again, and he'd be back using a shovel. 'Course, he heard a _lot_ more chit-chat when he was digging by hand, and that was the point of being here. The work-out, he grudged, wasn't bad either.

 _"¿Otra vez soñando despierto?"_ , a sarcastic voice called up to him from the ground. _"Hasta un chango haría su trabajo!"_

Vega felt a bright flash of joy. It was one of the workers that Zavala had described as having likely been bought by middle-men who'd in turn been hired by the Batarian Hegemony.

_Man, I'd love a good fight right now. Question becomes: is the little prick important enough that I can't lure him into a brawl without someone firing my ass?_

_"Estaba pensando en tu **hermana** , Enrique."_ James had conveniently met the man's sibling the day before. She'd flirted shamelessly with him, even taken a few liberties: under his T-shirt and on top of his jean shorts. Since it had pissed off Enrique, James had flirted back. _"¿O me vas a decir que un mono también podría hacer ese trabajo?"_

The other day laborer went purple with anger as Vega deftly steered the malfunctioning excavator away from him. James jumped out and flagged down the mechanic. The tech hopped up into the cab, tried to shift gears and began to swear (in Spanish) at the machine, at James, at the world in general, and then at Enrique, who had joined them.

 _"Estoy hasta la madre, **pendejo** "_, Enrique snarled, and _he_ threw the first punch, connecting with Vega's face, which frankly _made_ James' entire fucking week.

_¡Vamos, hombre! ¡Adelante!_

\--

While climbing the stairs to the second floor, James realized he was sore all over. At least... it was a well-earned ache; he felt pretty happy that he wasn't going to have to explain to Shepard that he'd ended up with a messed-up face for no reason.

As it had turned out, a good portion of the crew - including their immediate supervisor - disliked Enrique intensely, and at least three guys had watched him both verbally accost James _and_ be the first to swing. Enrique had been sent home on notice that his next shift on the Hawks Ave crew would be his LAST chance. James had been sent home with free medigel and his full four hours' pay... even though he'd technically only worked three of it.

Furthermore, a few crew members had started running Enrique down, talking about his 'other crew', and intimating that some of the guys had been gunning for James. This was news to Vega, and it made him question everything that had happened yesterday... especially the _irresistible charm_ that had seemingly drawn in Enrique's sister; it was instead probable that he was being set up.

_For what?_

He'd hadn't used the stim (because, really, what was he, five?), and figured he'd drop it off in Zavala's stash, brief him on what he'd learned. He knocked on 2-A.

Nothing.

Then his brain dug its way out from under all the self-congratulations, advised him that there was a murmur of voices coming from _his_ apartment. He silently approached the door to listen, and identified Shepard. Anderson. Another male. Zavala. The other male again. Anderson. It sounded as if Zavala was going over his intel as the new voice questioned him closely. Shepard mentioned being glad to have her amp back, which was _news_ to _him_.

He listened for about five minutes, hearing only one woman: Shepard. He felt a bit guilty for eavesdropping, and a bit _proud_ of successfully spying on spies.

_Still... **mierda!**_

Liara was a mind-healer, Eliza had said.

And they'd gotten _Kaidan Alenko_ instead.

\--

James slapped his right palm onto the exterior lock, listened to the click, and watched everyone turn to look at him as the panel slid open. His eyes immediately sought out the newest addition, and he felt his gut tighten.

 _ **Grrrreeat.** Another fashion model with mad biotic skills. Me quiero matar._ He suddenly and irreverently remembered how handsome Essex had been. _Is every goddamn biotic hot and powerful? Is this the genetic lottery I lost?_

There was a tight smile on Anderson's face. "Lieutenant James Vega, Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko." James' eyes immediately slid to Shepard, who was likewise smiling-but-not-really. She wasn't even trying to make it believable.

"Charmed," James drawled with a grin, as he turned completely to face Zavala. If the new biotic held out a hand, Vega didn't want to see it and be forced to choose whether or not he'd shake it. "Your intel was decent, _mi amigo_. The sister yesterday? Set-up."

Tom's eyebrows rose into his hairline, and he nodded toward James' face. "Enrique's handiwork?"

Vega's grin turned vicious. "Had to let him land something in order for it to be his fault." He winked at Zavala and then tossed him the medigel. Tom caught it with an overhand snap grab that impressed the hell out of James.

"Why don't you just _use_ this shit? The job site gave it to you, right? It's not like it's actually draining our resources; you _do_ realize _abject poverty_ is just our **cover**?" Zavala sounded sincerely aggrieved that Vega was so hard to doctor.

"Force of habit. If I don't _absolutely_ need a stim, I don't want it. Better to let the body heal at its own pace. Besides, job site only fucking cares about me being able to get back to work. No one else knows how to run the damn excavator."

"Is, uh, the excavator still running?" Tom's eyes twinkled, and James got the distinct impression that he was enjoying leaving their superior officers completely out of the conversation, given the fact that no one could object this wasn't Serious Intelligence Matters.

"I did _exactly_ what Osorio showed me: took out the plug, popped the snap ring, and tossed in a rock." Vega ran a hand over his head. "Damn lucky I didn't get caught. You fuckers think it's funny to punt mechanical stuff my way, but I swear it's going to blow up in your faces one of these days."

Anderson cleared his throat. " **Why** would you sabotage a construction site?" He sounded aggrieved, as if concerned he'd be bailing them out of jail soon.

Zavala fielded that one. "Can't hear anything of value from the excavator; you're alone operating it, and everyone else is on the ground: manually digging, spreading gravel or concrete, etc. I'd specifically asked the Lieutenant to follow up on the stuff I just told you about - the things I learned last night about three of the men who work that crew regularly." He shifted his eyes from Anderson back to James. "Colorful way to go about it, though."

James arched a brow at him. "After the - can't really call it a fight, but whatever - a bunch of the other workers started dropping all sorts of interesting facts about Enrique." He pondered. "I think you may be wrong about Diego, unless there's some dissension in the ranks. But Josef was the one who carried Enrique home - or at least off-site. So that checks out."

Tomas whistled. "And the sister?"

"I'd have to assume, yes." He hung his head in mock sadness. "I thought she really liked me."

Zavala laughed, and the other two men chuckled, but Shepard caught his eye and said "Why did you think that?" There was just the _slightest_ edge to her voice that indicated she was actually quite pissed off.

_Uhhhhhhh. Safe answer, what are you?_

Unfortunately, Tom was on a roll. "Madre de Dios, she was all _OVER_ him yesterday afternoon, at the end of shift. One of the reasons I made sure he got home! I knew the Admiral was coming by. Didn't want Vega to get... distracted, and not show up."

James was watching Shepard's face; it hit him like a ton of bricks when her hazeled eyes grew hard, her jaw tightened the slightest bit, and he realized _Oh my God... she's **jealous**._ His entire body grew warm; he realized he was going to have to escape into the shower soon.

_But first, repair this._

He rolled his eyes. "It was all an act. I had a suspicion that it wasn't genuine at the time, but now I'm certain. Man should know how to take an insult to his 'sister' better. Or at least throw a better first punch." James grinned at Shepard. "My _cousin_ could teach him a thing or two about that."

Shepard's eyes softened, and he immediately felt better, but Zavala whistled again. "So you think - not his sister at all?"

James shrugged. "Pretty sure no."

"Wow. That's commitment." Tom ignored Vega's derisive snort, and added "So... they're onto you."

He shrugged. "The rest of the crew only said they suspected he was after me, not why. They may have assumed something else is going on. But *I* think I might be made. I wish like hell I knew what it was; maybe I was too competent at construction or something."

Zavala pursed his lips. "I don't think so. This really was the perfect cover for us. We all - even Shepard - fit in here like a hand in glove." He nodded at Eliza with a smile, and then at Anderson with clear admiration. "The fact that they're already in the neighborhood didn't surprise me in the least, but I didn't expect us to get targeted so soon."

Kaidan spoke up for the first time. "A trail from the facility to here? Anything at all? Pilot?"

James turned to look at the dark-haired biotic with new respect. Tom also glanced at Kaidan, clearly thinking hard. "I would have sworn 'no'. Osorio and I know the pilot, and moreover so does the Admiral."

Anderson chimed in "Not the pilot. Though Shepard did scare the crap out of him right before he left, and I had to pay him more."

_Did Anderson just crack a joke?_

He watched Eliza turn on Anderson with an arched eyebrow and something shifted in his jean shorts. He sent a very loud mental message to his body: _NOT NOW._

"What the hell did he say I did?" Shepard directed her 'pissed-off' voice at Anderson.

Zavala laughed suddenly. He turned to Kaidan with a wicked grin, and explained "She stepped off the shuttle with _death_ in her eyes, pivoted sharply to get _right_ in the face Sergent Ames, who'd flown us here, and inquired - ever so sweetly - if he'd like to take her tracker with him. Shit, even *I* wondered if she was about to Throw the shuttle... and *I* knew she didn't have her amp back yet."

"Let's just say that contact might be tapped out," the Admiral grimaced.

Shepard huffed.

James knew he had to get into the tiny shower fairly soon. "I usually shower after work, then stuff my face. With your leave -" He nodded at Anderson, "I'm going to rinse off the construction sweat. I'll make lunch for whoever's here when I get out."

"I can make lunch," Kaidan chimed in. "Just have to check the fridge upstairs to see what groceries they dropped off."

James paused and tried not to scowl. _Move-in-ready apartment has move-in-ready groceries, eh?_

"Sounds great. Be out in ten. Upstairs in... twenty?" He arched an eyebrow at Shepard, gifted her the smallest of smiles, and hoped she got the message that he was going to go problem-solve and she could suck it up.

\--

He was _not_ prepared for the door to fly open. In fact, he was _extremely_ **un** prepared, and DAMN lucky that he was able to swallow his panting moans as soon as he heard the loud bang of an old-fashioned swing door meeting heavy tile. He pivoted so that his incriminating front parts were facing the back wall.

_So. THIS is familiar. Have to admit,_ kind _of preferred being on the other side._

"Uh, Shepard? Bit busy, here."

" _Are_ you?" Her tone was acid.

If she were actually trying to torture him, he would have given her credit for timing. As it was, part of him was ready to chase her out of here with a countdown. Then he remembered how she'd been Tuesday morning, how scared and broken she'd seemed, and he silently groaned. _Fuuuuuuuuuccckkkk_.

"Shepard, what do you _want_?"

" _Well,_ I **certainly** don't want to interrupt you working through your imaginary _bruja_ fantasy with some sweaty construction worker's sister."

 _ **Mierda** , she's still pissed about_ that? _Oh, well - pride is highly over-rated._

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Eliza... would it make you feel better - or worse - if I said I was in here thinking about _you_?"

She stiffened in the doorway, eyes meeting his. She reddened.

"Look, I was accosted at work, and I went along with it because she's important to one of the men Zavala had informed me is almost certainly dirty. He's taking money from one of the groups the _Batarians_ bought. So if you're annoyed that her hands were all over me because you think I _enjoyed_ it, you can knock that shit right off. That was just Tom being an asshole."

Even through the wavy plastic of the curtain, he could tell her face had softened slightly. "I'm- that sucks. I'm sorry that happened. I, uh, know how it is."

_I bet. And I wish I didn't have to think about that right now._

"I did what I had to do. Once Osorio goes through Enrique's bank records tonight, and finds a payment that can be linked back to someone who accepted money from a foreign government to coordinate the assassination of a military leader, well, then you can feel sorry for _her_. It's not going to end well."

She looked skeptical. "It can't be that easy."

He shrugged. "It might be. Depends on how many groups of middle-men the Batarians have managed to sucker into this."

She leaned against the door, face creased in thought. And yet, James saw her eyes drop slightly, and he suddenly wondered...

"Are you- Shepard, what are you doing?"

Her flush this time was even redder. "Nothing."

"Nothing, my-" he killed the too-obvious joke. "I catch _hell_ for spying on you in the shower, but here you are shamelessly checking out my backside? After I _toiled_ in the hot sun all week to help keep you safe?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yesterday sounded like it was all toil."

"Don't change the subject - you were checking out my ass."

She grinned suddenly, and said smoothly _"Cada chango a su mecate._ By the way, I looked it up. It _actually_ means "to every monkey his own rope." Which strikes me as being _way more_ appropriate in the current context."

James just stared at her as she used his own Spanish against him. Then he turned back around and leaned forward into the wall, pressing his groin against the tile he'd scrubbed clean several days ago, all the while imagining _her_ pressed up against it...

"Eliza, put me out of my misery and answer my second question."

He heard the door creak slightly, and wondered in which direction she'd moved. "I, uh, don't remember your second question."

"Would it be better or worse if I was actually in here fantasizing about _you_ , not some stupid construction worker's sister?"

He glanced over his shoulder and swallowed hard. She'd moved all right, but she was WAY closer to the plastic now, maybe twenty centimeters away from-

"This morning... when I, uh, wanted to talk?" She took a deep breath. "I was going to... ask you if you still... wanted to..." She trailed off and then swallowed. "Because whatever that was, Tuesday morning? It's, uh... been gone for awhile."

James just stared at her.

_**Joder! Puta madre!** I could have been in bed with Commander Elizabeth Shepard this morning instead of sabotaging a backhoe and getting punched in the face? **¿Por qué** es mi vida?_

He sighed and then cleared his throat. "But you heard the intel and knew I had to go."

She nodded. Then the plastic started to inch back.

He jumped. "Ah, not that I don't appreciate the thought, but you DO remember we said we'd be upstairs for lunch in twenty minutes, like ten minutes ago?"

She stopped tugging, leaving a face-width's gap in the curtain's coverage. Through the steam, he could see her face move sideways into that gap; her eyes, raking over his body.

 _DIOS. The_ ultimate _humiliation would be to orgasm right now, just because she's_ looking _at me, and it's the first time it feels like she truly wants me. NOW, when we **fucking** have to be_ UPSTAIRS.

"Shepard. There is nothing in the world I'd like more right now than for you to strip and climb in here with me, if only to solve the great mystery of whether or not two people will actually _fit_ into this shower." She laughed, somewhat... flirtatiously.

 _Madre de Dios, Commander Shepard just_ giggled.

"But... given what happened Tuesday, it seems like it'd be a good idea for us to _talk_ about something like that before we actually do it. And we don't have time to talk about it now. So, if you have ANY pity in your heart for me, _please_ back out of here and give me a couple minutes to... finish this?"

She took one last look at his body, and sidled out.

He groaned. _Joder. This just gets harder and harder._ He groaned again. _Stupid puns._

\--

If anyone had asked Vega to place a bet, he would have laid down a hundred credits on "Supremely Awkward Lunch" without hesitation. 

He would have lost.

Honestly, he didn't know how Alenko managed it. The man was beautiful (James might not like it, but ignoring the truth wasn't his style), powerful, and mature (in the best sense of the word). But he was also soft-spoken and unassuming; conversation naturally flowed around him. He'd supposedly been in the apartment less than three hours, yet it already felt... homier. He'd heated up canned soup and set out sandwiches from the deli two buildings over: not serving anyone, but leaving the food on his kitchen counter where it could be retrieved. James supposed it could have seemed 'dismissive,' but it instead felt _familial_. The older biotic sat back on his sofa, sipping a beer, and mostly just listened to the others. When he spoke, it was to ask the occasional insightful question, clearly endeavoring to catch up on the situation.

Kaidan didn't ignore Shepard, but he also didn't flirt outrageously like Zavala, or even subtly, like Osorio. He wasn't nearly as informal with her as Vega. There was a _distance_ between them; James watched them be incredibly _civil_ to each other, and wondered if he'd expected it to be different. He'd seen the file: they'd served together on the SR-1 before it had been destroyed; they'd gone after Saren together. He thought he'd read that they'd been close back then, but perhaps one of them _dying_ had caused an estrangement. Had they seen each other since? Spoken? Written? There was something about the way they were acting that set off alarm bells in James' head... but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.

"So, Vega." Zavala grinned at him. "We go back to to the site after lunch, and hope that Enrique comes back too, hey? With his 'sister'? You already got to slap him around, so that'll be my job now. You can find out what the lovely _Gabriela_ knows." The dark-skinned biotic wagged his eyebrows and Vega closed his eyes against the desire to beat the ever-loving _shit_ out of him.

"I'm not going back this afternoon," James said firmly, refusing to glance over at Shepard. "Broken face, remember?"

"Shee-it," Zavala drawled. Suddenly his accent sounded like was poling a boat through a bayou. "Y'all could fight Collectors with that baby scratch, let alone dig for a few hours and cover for me, so-as I can sneak in-ta-da office."

"Can just anyone show up to work?" Kaidan inquired, and Vega opened his eyes to see that Alenko was leaning forward toward Tomas. He actually looked interested.

 _Wow. Running interference for me? That's... unexpected._ Welcome, _but unexpected._

Tom pursed his lips. When he spoke, his accent was back to his new 'normal', slightly-Hispanic, one. "Did you arrange a cover? You obviously can't show up as Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

Kaidan laughed, reached into his pants pocket, and tossed an ID at Tom; he caught it with a quick snap, flipped it open... and started _guffawing_.

"This I gotta see," James demanded, and he held out his hand.

The ID was Canadian, but from a ethnic Slavic community up on the north shore, and it proclaimed the older biotic was "Yarik Bychkov", an engineering graduate student at WSU. James arched an eyebrow at Kaidan, who shrugged back, grinning.

"OK, now *I* have to see it," Shepard grimaced, and she snagged the ID from Vega with a burst of cybernetic speed. That snatch and grab surprised Zavala into going silent, and Osorio (who had likewise been reaching for the ID) shuffled back a few steps, ran into the couch, and sat down abruptly. Alenko, however, did not seem surprised. When James glanced at the man's face - as Shepard flipped open the ID - Kaidan actually looked... resigned?

_He looks..._ wistful. _Like he misses her. Maybe the_ old _her?_

Meanwhile, Eliza had snorted. "Who thought making you a _graduate student_ was a good idea?"

Zavala had recovered, though he looked at the Commander with undisguised curiosity. "It's funnier if you know Russian."

Shepard arched a brow. "Which... _you_ do, I suppose? I mean, there's nothing _you_ don't know, right?"

_Man, I'm glad I 'showered'. Watching her grill Tom never gets old._

The darker biotic blinked. "Uh, yeah. Some." He sighed. "Look, Commander, I know seven languages, and speak three fluently. I've lived on a half-dozen different planets. And yeah, I'm only twenty-five years old. Playing a nervous thirty-two year old newly-recruited military middle management goon was my version of a 'fun vacation', especially as I got to meet the _infamous_ Commander Elizabeth Shepard during the course of it. Could we possibly, some time soon, cry peace?"

She eyed him, squinting slightly. "What does it mean, in Russian?"

Almost against his will, Tom cracked a smile. "Fierce young ox." He paused, and then added in a low voice, aimed at Shepard: "We should switch their IDs."

Eliza LAUGHED loudly, startling both Vega and Alenko. When she finally stopped, she rubbed away the tears and nodded. "Fine. Cease-fire." She glanced at James "It's always the more _prudent_ plan."

\--

After a bit more discussion, Zavala led Alenko out of the apartment to show him the ropes of 'patrol', and the other three went back downstairs. Osorio's plan was to start working on the bank records; he paused on the second-floor landing to tentatively ask if he could borrow Shepard. She, in turn, glanced at James.

"I _really_ wish that could be a yes, but we're not authorized to give her _any_ data... yet," James apologized. "I'm not sure how long they're intending her extranet access to remain restricted; in a 'worst case' scenario, I suppose it could be blocked until after her testimony wraps, but I _hope_ the hell not. I've asked Anderson about it twice now, since we're at a point where her hacking skills would be damn useful - and it's fucking ridiculous for her NOT to be able to get into the records when it's _her_ life on the line. But... brass."

Osorio had accepted it, and disappeared down the stairs.

And then they were back in the apartment: alone, and likely to remain that way at least until dinner. Both of them realized, at approximately the same time, that it would be far too easy for them to end up _not_ talking.

"How about..." Shepard started to suggest, then stopped abruptly.

Vega laughed. "You were about to say 'the roof', weren't you?" He snorted. "I think we may have pretty much _destroyed_ the roof for conversation. Before Alenko moved in, I used to wonder if the Ibarras had the code to that apartment. I worried Adelia might stumble in on my _siestas_. Of course, it would have been easier to deal with than the shower today."

Shepard sighed. "Because she would have left without you having to tell her to go."

James grimaced. "No, because I'd have _wanted_ her to leave. I wouldn't have been tempted to pull her into the shower with me, press her up against the wall, and start using my teeth on her, for example."

Eliza jerked in shock. "That's... we're not going to end up just talking about this, are we?"

He laughed again. "Well, I _can_ , because you _did_ leave, and I _did_ take the edge off, but if we stay here? Unlikely."

"Out there, we're cousins."

She still sounded miffed about it.

"And it's important that we stay that way. So, yeah, going for a walk isn't the worst idea. We can double-duty it."

"Doing what?"

James grinned again. "Grocery shopping. I was going to go after work, but now that the work part has changed, and I actually have time to cook, I wouldn't mind hitting a grocery store farther out."

"And no one will come running to take me back into custody?"

James arched both brows. "The first person tasked with chasing you will be _with_ you, so no. I'll let the others know where we're going, why, and how long we'll be there. That will be that."

Eliza did a slow blink as if something had just occurred to her. "Wait... you- do _YOU_ have a tracker?"

James took a deep breath. "Yeah, I do. I was fine with it, given the circumstances. Shepard, I would have let them take a finger off if it meant getting you out of there. Plus, it meant no monitoring devices in the apartment. And, shockingly, they kept their word; Osorio swept the entire damn building before we moved in. He sweeps for bugs _every_ day." James snorted. "Maybe twice a day."

Eliza slowly nodded. She appeared to be having a conversation with herself, and James dearly would have liked to have known what she was thinking, but he waited patiently instead of asking. Finally she sighed and said "OK, let's get out of here."

\--

They'd walked a few blocks, side by side, greeting people they knew in the neighborhood. Around the turn onto the Boulevard, James quietly asked "How has it been, having the amp back?"

"It's been... fine."

He looked over at her. "You were pretty worried about it."

Shepard glanced around them. "Yeah. Well. I, uh... I haven't put it in yet."

James threw out an arm and she stopped dead rather than run into it. He, too, glanced up and down the street and kept his voice low. "Lola, forgive me for messing around in what might be a personal matter, but _why the hell not_?"

She bit her lip and met his eyes. "I thought... I mean... if you'd, um, said 'yes', and things got... complicated, it'd be... safer."

James shut his eyes. _Hijo de la chingada! She's out here with no gun, **no** amp, and it's **my** fault._

"We're going back. _Now_."

Eliza dug in her heels. " _No_ , we're not. Jam- _ie_ -" she caught herself at the last second, and no one (who didn't already know) would have realized she'd been about to say something different. "I didn't do all this work to stay stuck in the apartment all day, every day." She lowered her voice considerably. "Why give me a new look, a convincing story, an absolutely ridiculous name, and make us _cousins_... if you were basically going to incarcerate me again?"

Vega blinked, glanced around, and whispered "OK, _what_ is wrong with us being cousins?"

"What if someone had SEEN us on the roof?"

Despite the serious issue that had started this conversation, James couldn't help smirking. "They'd think we were... _close_ cousins?"

When Eliza landed a punch on his bicep, it reminded him of that morning in the Null Room. Vega could feel his grin get wider.

_Ooooraleeee. She really does remind me of TJ's sister._

"Look, **Lola** \- we're not all doing construction just to work on our tans and bulk up; you know better. People are already targeting us." A couple exited a shop a few doors north of them, and Vega steered Shepard back into motion. Once they were alone again, he murmured "I admit, the new hair and eye color are solid, and the new make-up and clothes are decent camouflage. _Gracias a Dios_ you didn't decide to chop off all your hair, but that means you're _not_ completely unrecognizable if someone knew exactly where to look." He took her bent arm, stopped her again, and shook it slightly. "Promise me you'll put the damn thing in when we get back?"

He braced himself as she stiffened, then relaxed as she sighed. "Fine. Let's go." 

\--

He'd ended up being sincerely grateful that he'd brought Shepard along with him, as his menu changed on the fly when she scrunched up her nose at pork, and informed him that she really didn't eat much meat when she had any other option.

 _So no to carnitas_.

James _did_ grab a _lot_ of other stuff, including cream, condensed milk, and evaporated milk to throw together his grandmother's _Tres Leches_ cake. He really couldn't wait to see her face when she tried it. He'd actually grabbed enough ingredients to make _two_ cakes, because God only knew if one of the Admirals would pop in unannounced (for upper echelon military, whom - one would assume - had better things to do, they certainly seemed fond of dropping in to check on Shepard) and he'd be feeding _three_ biotics, one of whom he already _knew_ had a serious sweet tooth.

So Shepard - _Lola_ , he needed to start thinking of her that way when they were out - had turned out to be pretty helpful carrying bags.

"What is all this stuff for, anyway?"

James debated, figured she probably wouldn't recognize any of the words besides 'cake', and relented: " _Mole_ , Beans and Rice, _Horchata_ , and _Tres Leches._ "

Eliza looked around, saw they were alone on the sidewalk, and whispered "Tray Laychez?"

James started laughing and couldn't stop. Shepard kicked him in the shin to get him to even _begin_ to stop. Finally she just started walking again, and that made him catch up.

"It's a cake," he informed her in a low voice, "So you should probably be nicer to me, at least until you've managed to snag one of them and flee to the roof."

She turned to him, mouth dropping open, and then a small smile curled the corners. "You're baking for me?"

Vega grinned back. "If our exceedingly low-rent oven works. Although if ours doesn't, I imagine one of the other three will."

He didn't know if he'd imagined it, or if her eyes had gotten shiny again. _Has **anyone** EVER made an effort for this woman?_

"Thank you," she whispered.

James grinned. _"De nada."_

\--

"OK, I have no idea what this is, but it's _amazing_."

"Yeah, uh, it is."

James felt as if someone had hit him in the face with a board. Ten seconds ago, he was turning around to offer her a glass of _horchata_ , pleased that it had turned out so well even though he'd had to use the oven to speed up the infusion process, and she was walking out of her room to take it... when he saw what she was wearing.

There was NO way Shepard could have known, but the dress was pure 'Lola': a blue and green print mini that dipped into a low V over her chest, and swirled in a full short skirt just above her knees. His best friend growing up had often mocked his sister's sense of style, telling her _'Lujeres sexy deben mostrar menos piel, **las putas** deben mostrar más'_, but James had smacked him in the head every time he said it; TJ had eventually stopped.

_Lola had known exactly how much skin to show to get men to constantly wonder what the rest looked like. Shepard knows it too. And now there's an ENTIRE fucking dinner to get through before i can even think about having the Important Conversation, let alone figuring how to get that dress off._

She, meanwhile, was draining the _horchata_ as if she'd never tasted rice or almond milk before. "What _is_ this?"

He laughed. "Look, there's no meat - or drugs - in _anything_ I made for tonight, so how about just _enjoying_ it, and I'll answer questions later. I have to watch the _mole_ right now."

He caught her surreptitiously glancing around the kitchen and couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I hate to break it to you, but Osorio offered to bake the _Tres Leches_ in between hacking attempts. He has a grandmother in Hermisillo who makes it too. I just did the batter and took it downstairs in tins."

She turned back to him, and that's when he saw it: Commander Shepard was _pouting_.

It felt like the board that had previously hit him in the face decided to double back and take out his chest.

_What the hell is WRONG with me? It's just Eliza wanting cake batter._

"That part was tricky, though," he said, when he felt like he could speak again. "You don't want to... to knock all the air out of the batter. The cake can fall, and then it'll be dense."

 _Like me. I just had all the air knocked out of me, and now I feel_ incredibly dense. _stupido. Idiota_.

Eliza was still sipping her _horchata_. It was half-gone. He grabbed the pitcher and topped it off for her, trying to remember his own goddam _name_.

"Sounds like I should go down and supervise _Robert_ , then," she teased, and James thought:

_In THAT dress? Not on your fucking life._

"Actually, I was hoping you'd move the table out into the living room and set it. Maybe shift the screen closer to the desk. Since people just seem to appear here unannounced, I have no idea if we'll have enough room." He went to stir the _mole_.

"Are we expecting others? Anderson?"

_If there truly IS a God, how about **Liara T'Soni?**_

\--

He would have lost more credits on dinner, but only twenty-five or so; he'd _almost_ learned his lesson. Not that there weren't a few strained moments, such as Zavala's long wolf-whistle when he first caught sight of The Dress, but after Vega, Osorio, AND Alenko all turned to glare at him, Tomas blinked and apologized. The cease-fire held.

At one point, Kaidan - who'd devoured a biotic's share AND a construction worker's share of beans and rice smothered in _mole_ , cornbread, cake, _and_ some of the baked chicken he'd picked up after work and contributed to the feast - turned to Shepard, looked her up and down, and said "So this is _your_ cover?"

Vega stiffened. He glanced at Zavala, who either wasn't concerned (or was hiding his concern _really_ well) then at Osorio, who was frowning.

"Yeah. Lola Gallardo. I'm getting used to her. She's interesting. She works a boring data entry job from home, but she's got big dreams that her cousin might eventually let her go clubbing some day... after he's punched his way through half the neighborhood, made a big enough impression on all the men." Everyone chuckled, even Vega.

"He's really only worried about the one next door, however," Zavala opined. He had ALSO eaten a lion's share of food, and was slumped back in his chair, showing off a slightly-rounded belly with contentment. "Though, right now, I don't think I could manage to dance even if you promised to dance with me, Lola." He flopped his head over to look at Vega. _"Maldición, puedes cocinar. En agradecimiento, no me quedaré."_ He tilted his head, the tiniest bit, toward Alenko. _"Y lo llevaré conmigo."_

James felt a faint blush begin to stain his cheeks and fought it.

 _Is is REALLY that damn obvious, or is it just the fact that he saw us together in the Null Room? Is he assuming The Dress is for me?_ James then found himself wondering: _IS the dress for me? I suppose... it **could** have been for someone else..._

"And for those of us who didn't wear their omni-tools to the table, that meant..." Shepard arched a brow at Tomas, but included James and Robert in her query.

"It was me thanking your cousin for a _magnificent_ meal, and telling him that we should really get back to work. All kidding aside, I have to run the neighborhood - well, once I can move - and Osorio spent way too much time poking a fuck-ton of holes into Three Milk cakes, to impress a certain Commander, and not _nearly_ enough time at his computer terminal-"

"Hey-" Osorio interjected, causing Tom to stop for the barest of seconds, "tell me those cakes were not worth every minute spent on the glaze."

Several people snorted as Zavala finished, "- and Lieutenant Alenko only has a thousand reports to catch up on before what we learned at the site this afternoon will make _any_ sense. I'm _current_ on the intel, and it didn't all make sense."

"Tom, if you hit the clubs again, for fuck's sake, be **careful** ," Vega exhorted him. "That's an _order_. If you're actually of a rank where I can order you to do anything."

Zavala started laughing, and then groaned, holding his stomach. "Oh, I see your game, now - fill a man with amazing food and then make him laugh so hard he throws up." Tom carefully stood, and then slid toward the kitchen. "Before I go, is this a mess?" He swung the door open and turned around, looking confused. "Damn, Vega. You're, like, a super-hero or something. You even cleaned up after yourself?"

Shepard snorted. "He had a _little_ help. But yeah. I didn't know cooks who also cleaned up the kitchen actually _existed_."

Behind Eliza, James caught Kaidan flashing a smile, but in his eyes... pain? It was gone too quickly for James to be sure he'd seen anything.

Robert was clearing off people's plates. "I will take these downstairs with me and wash them while the newest search program is running. _Muchas gracias_ , James - this was..." Osorio paused, and actually seemed to be fighting some sort of emotion. "This was _maravilloso_."

 _"De nada_ , Roberto." James found himself smiling sincerely. The Infiltrator had actually turned out to be... well, just as good a man as Hackett had advertised.

\--

After James got a message that Tomas _and_ Kaidan where going on walkabout, he and Eliza sneaked back up to the roof after all.

 _Another good thing about having eaten all that food. It's going to take a miracle for sex to happen for at _least_ a couple hours. Hell, both of us could easily fall asleep before then._ James hadn't forgotten how difficult the scene in the shower had been, though. _Let's see if we can stay awake long enough to_ actually _talk. Pretty much the worst thing I can imagine would be having sex and then her regretting it. I don't think I could stand that._

They were each curled up on a sheet-covered chaise (James' handiwork), watching the sun begin to set. James wondered if he was the only one who couldn't stop thinking about Tuesday.

"I really want to know who set that shower up."

_Apparently not._

"Did you ever ask Adelia?"

"Yup. She had no idea what I was talking about, and looked at me as if I'd have to be a bit odd in the head to want to use rain water out of a moldy cistern when all the apartments have perfectly adequate showers." Eliza smiled in memory. The Ibarras were nothing if not practical.

"My money's on the former tenant of 3-B, then. He or she would have been the only with with easy roof access, anyway."

"Apparently," Shepard yawned. James looked over at her fondly. "Though I do wonder if we might have missed an access point."

James made a "hmph" noise, and a mental note to mention this to Osorio.

_OK, that yawn wasn't feigned. Can't put this off forever._

"Eliza, _why_ did you change your mind? Do you even know?"

She snorted. "Which time?"

 _Fair point._ "Did you ever think about mentioning the abuse to me?"

Slowly, her head rotated around to look at him. There was a beat, and then she said "What?"

_Oh no. Nice try, but no._

" _Cabrona,_ if you don't want to talk about what happened with anyone but Liara, I respect that, but if we're even _considering_ having sex, a simple 'By the way, I was physically abused a while back, and it may cause problems' isn't a deal-breaker, and can head off a lot of misunderstandings."

She just _stared_ at him for a moment, face slack, body motionless.

 _Is she about to lie? Could I have_ possibly _gotten it wrong?_

Suddenly she drew in a long breath, and shuffled in the chair, putting a bit more space between them.

 _Well... that's not a great sign._ James stopped himself from reflexively shifting toward her to close the distance.

"It was... a _long_ time ago."

 _Thank fucking Christ._ James again forced himself to stay still, accepting whatever came out... and whatever didn't.

"I was... pretty young. It was someone I knew. But when I started to... When my biotics kicked in, and I got... stronger... It was like - I _knew_ it would never happen again. And I got over it."

 _Dios. ¡Ah poco! Eliza, I'm supposed to believe that?_ James sighed. And waited.

But Shepard didn't say anything else. She was quiet a long time. They continued to watch the sun slip toward the horizon.

Finally, Vega couldn't take it anymore. "If it was gone for a long time, why do you think it's back? Why is it affecting you now?"

Eliza stirred, and James realized she'd been falling asleep. 

_Dios. A la chingada. OK._

Sleep was still WAY too precious a commodity for Shepard. For him, too, honestly. A picture of her vibrant green eyes laughing at him as she suggested she go down and observe Robert baking flashed into his brain. _She took out the contact lenses. And I know she brushed her teeth. This is... OK, gotta own this. **I'm** the one that made all that food, and none of them having had a home-cooked meal in, well, months? Years?_

Vega stood up, assessed his gut, realized he'd probably digested enough to manage it, squatted down between the chaises, and - with excruciating care - slid Eliza into his arms. At the last second, he winced - wondering if he was courting catastrophe and possible death, wondering just what the hell he thought he was doing - but then she was snuggled in his arms so trustingly, so deeply asleep, that something suspiciously close to his heart melted.

He turned toward the stairs... and saw Alenko in the doorway.

_I have ABSOLUTE shit timing. If I'd realized even TEN fucking minutes ago that she was asleep, we might have missed him._

He nodded at Kaidan and started to walk past him, an unconscious Lieutenant Commander Shepard cuddled up against his chest as if this happened every day of the week. Still, he wasn't shocked when Alenko spoke.

"She OK?" The biotic wasn't exactly whispering, but his tone was pitched so low James wasn't worried about it waking Eliza.

"Yeah," James breathed back. "Just - still exhausted from a week and a half of torture, and now stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey."

_And where were you again?_

To his credit, Kaidan flinched, and then turned to hold open the roof access door. It was dim enough for him to have been mistaken, but - as he passed by and glanced at the dark-haired man's face - the expression he saw there almost looked like _longing_.

_What. the. fuck?_

He managed to get Shepard down one set of stairs, through Alenko's apartment and the hall, down the second set of stairs... then paused when he saw Zavala's door wide open. The younger biotic was sitting on his couch, thumbing through his omni-tool, and his eyes bugged out when he saw James carrying a comatose Shepard. Vega tilted his head abruptly toward the door to 2-B, and Zavala _jumped_ off the couch to comply.

"Thanks," James murmured. 

He swung her into their apartment, and closed the door with his foot, right in Tomas' surprised face. As he strode through to her bedroom, James tried to stop himself from laughing, because what he'd thought about saying to Zavala was 'Sixty kilos, my arse.'

_We both would have broken down, though. Would have woken her. I might have dropped her._

He managed to shift her enough onto his hip to get one hand free, yank the covers back, and maneuver her sideways onto the bed. He felt a bit foolish, but that didn't stop him from carefully tucking her in.

_All things considered, it feels like we got pretty damn lucky this week, cabrona. Let's make this a good, solid, sleep._

\--

He woke up abruptly, three hours later, realizing he'd spoken too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really long, dialogue-heavy, Chapter. it's sort of The Null Room's "Citadel (DLC)" there's a lot of stuff in here that hints backwards and forwards in the Mass Effect world, and i couldn't bear to cut some of it, because i've been waiting to get all of these characters together for quite awhile. there are other reasons, of course, but i don't want to give all the mystery away, in case people are enjoying it. 
> 
> as always, kudos are love.
> 
> \--
> 
> so, yeah, there's, uh, a LOT of Spanish in this one (and if you know Spanish and any - or all - of it is utter crap, PLEASE comment)
> 
> ¿Otra vez soñando despierto? ~ You day-dreaming again?  
> Hasta un chango haría su trabajo! ~ A monkey could do your job!  
> Estaba pensando en tu hermana, Enrique! ~ I was thinking about your sister, Enrique!  
> ¿O me vas a decir que un mono también podría hacer ese trabajo? ~ Or are you going to tell me a monkey could do that job, too?  
> Estoy hasta la madre, pendejo ~ I've had enough, asshole  
> ¡Vamos, hombre! ¡Adelante! ~ C'mon, man! Bring it on!  
> Me quiero matar ~ Kill me now  
> ¿Por qué es mi vida? ~ Why is this my life?  
> Hijo de la chingada! ~ Son of a bitch!  
> Orale – in this chapter, ‘amazing’  
> Lujeres sexy deben mostrar menos piel, las putas deben mostrar más ~ Sexy women should show less skin, and whores should show more  
> Maldición, puedes cocinar ~ Damn, you can cook  
> En agradecimiento, no me quedaré ~ In gratitude, I won't stay  
> Y lo llevaré conmigo ~ And I'll take him with me
> 
> \--
> 
> btw, i just bought almonds and rice today and damn if i'm not going to make myself some _horchata_ soon. :D yay writing research!


	16. Pre-Trial Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot you've all been waiting for (plot? did she say there was actual PLOT?)
> 
> "The earth moved, the angels wept, the Polaroids... are in my other coat." ~ Working Girl

James couldn't be positive, but he thought it likely that a loud _bang_ woke him up. Ironically, it was only _last_ night that he'd managed to convince his subconscious he was _safe_ in the apartment building. Shepard was no longer having panic attacks. Osorio had hidden alarms, cameras, and God only knew what else around the perimeter. Zavala took a late patrol shift when he himself didn't do it.

Safe.

So he laid on the couch, confused, and wondered if he'd only dreamed the noise of something crashing into a wall; he'd had that dream twice since it had actually _happened to him_ , in the Null Room.

But then he heard it again: Shepard's bedroom door swung open with a *whoosh* sound... then slammed shut.

On its own? _Pinche Dios... this can't be good_.

That was when the room began to shake.

Vega fought his first instinct, which was to run to her, and instead dashed across the hall and pounded on Zavala's door. Even as he lifted his hand to knock, he realized the hallway was moving, too. It felt _exactly_ like the earthquake he'd been in as a child. He dashed off a quick message to Osorio: _Go to basement. Take cover._

_I hope like hell it's **just** our building._

It seemed like hours, like days, but it was probably only a few seconds before a disheveled, half-dressed Tomas threw his door open. He stared at Vega, the whites of his eyes showing around the pupils. " **S-Shepard**?" he stammered.

James nodded, pulled him out of his apartment, and gave him a light shove toward the stairs. "Get Alenko, and do whatever you can to hold the damn building together."

"What are _you_ going to do?" Tom, already starting to glow faintly blue, was typing on his omni-tool; he stumbled and nearly fell as the floor - and the hallway - shifted. They both heard a loud _crash_ at the same time: a dresser or bookcase, perhaps, falling over. Shepard had both in her room.

James glared at Zavala like he was mentally-challenged. "I'm going back in there, because **my** job is to wake her up. If she _wakes up_ , it all stops. You and Alenko need to keep her from destroying the building - that's _your_ fucking job."

Tom managed a couple steps down the hallway, and James pivoted to go back into their apartment, only for them both to stop dead when Kaidan, also glowing blue, appeared on the stairs and shouted for them. "Lieutenant! Tom! Is it Shepard?"

Vega felt the mixed emotions of someone who has started to wonder if their savior is also their damnation. "God **damn** it" he yelled, hobbling carefully back into 2-B while the floor wobbled under him. Alenko and Zavala followed, each doing _something_ that - second by second - seemed to be lessening the shaking. The building itself ceased its side-to-side motion. Tom had the presence of mind to hit the panel that closed and locked the outer door, and James blessed his good sense, because - now that he was concentrating - he heard Luis Ibarra yelling something from upstairs.

_There's no way in hell we can let them know what caused this._

James kept inching toward the bedroom, the slight glow from the biotics in the living room showing him the bedroom door was still swinging back and forth erratically.

" **Vega!** Look, let me put up a Barrier and walk ahead of you," Alenko called. "Tom can hold this-" He turned to Zavala. "Right?"

Tomas let slip a semi-hysterical laugh. "Oh, _sure_. I'll just Stasis the entire _fucking_ building while one of the strongest biotics I've ever met tries to tear it down in her sleep. _NO PROBLEM_."

James gritted his teeth. "WHEN WE WAKE HER UP, IT WILL STOP," he spoke loudly into the room. "I'm **going**."

Kaidan jumped between him and the door and did - something - that made the blue shimmer on his skin intensify. The swinging door began to close, but Kaidan stopped it with a hand and walked through, Vega on his heels.

The Commander, glowing a vibrant sapphire that eclipsed both Alenko and Zavala put together, was twisted in her bed sheets, rocking back and forth, sobbing.

James felt his heart break. "SHEPARD!" he called, trying not to remember the feel of the Null Room's outer wall cracking two of his ribs, "WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

Alenko glanced over his shoulder. "I'll try to drain some of the energy out of this fit. It almost feels like she's caught in a loop. Breaking it might be the only way you can reach her."

 _Something_ about what Kaidan was saying sounded like a Bad Idea to Vega, but he had no idea _why_ , and, really, what the hell did _he_ know about biotics?

Kaidan reached out a hand toward the Commander... and the room exploded.

\--

Afterwards, Vega wasn't sure what actually broke his fall: the folding screen, the desk, or _Zavala_. He gingerly tested his range of motion, feeling lucky to be alive.

_Again._

He slowly reached over to pat Tom on the cheek - "Hey... _amigo_ , you there?" - and was thankful when the Vanguard stirred. He cautiously picked himself off the floor, and tried the lamp on his desk. They still had electricity.

"I am NOT getting paid enough for this shit," Zavala groaned, rotating his cervical, then thoracic, vertebrae. He managed to shift enough to use the desk as leverage, pulling himself into a seated position with a loud curse.

"Figure out if you've broken anything. If you have, yell. If you haven't, crawl over and grab your medkit. I'll check the Commander and see if I can find what's left of Alenko."

Tom started to shift to his knees, flinching and grunting. "What the fuck happened? I thought we were gaining ground, were going to be OK, and suddenly she imploded a _huge_ mother-fucking Warp field."

Vega was slowly picking his way across the cracked floor, shattered wallboard, and snapped two-by fours. Part of Shepard's bedroom wall was missing, and underneath the shredded wood of her floor, he could see bits of joist peeking through. "Alenko did something..." Vega shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he did something stupid, and this was the result."

The bedroom looked as if a maelstrom had hit it. The small dresser and bookcase had been reduced to shards; dozens of books and clothes - and _pieces_ of books and clothes - were strewn about. Shepard was still on her bed, no longer glowing, moving, or crying. James fought down a surge of panic as his mind flashed back to his last memory of Essex. He quickly picked his way through the rubble, and sighed with relief when he found a pulse and heard her breathing. Then he started looking for Kaidan.

Tom returned with the med-kit about the same time Vega located Alenko halfway to the kitchen, tucked under the blown-out bedroom door. He carefully levered the door off the older biotic, and Zavala went to work with medigel, cursing the entire time.

"If this idiot tried to do what I think he tried to do, he's lucky Lola didn't fling him halfway to the Pacific," Tom muttered. "She's obviously having some sort of panic reaction to her biotic field being drained, and he was _messing with it_ all. damn. day. I tried to energetically intervene, and got him out of here when I couldn't, but I'd _bet_ my sweet ass he saw her again, right before bed."

James straightened, shocked. "Yeah, he- he _fucking_ did."

Tomas shook his head, still checking for fractures. "He doesn't _know_ he's doing it, James. I don't think _she_ consciously realizes he's doing it. But-" Zavala stopped abruptly, appeared to reconsider what he was about to say, and cleared his throat. "You, uh, spend a lot of time with someone, it can become almost second-nature. Like... two sea urchins trying to stick to the same rock, figuring out where their spines go."

_They haven't spent time together since the SR-1, though. How long does something like that last?_

"He's also never been detained in a repression field; I don't think he's been 'bad' a fucking day in his life. He doesn't understand how it _sucks on you_ the entire goddamn time you're _in_ it. **I've** been in one; *I* know what it feels like. The LAST fucking thing Kaidan should have tried tonight was Reave, if that's what he did. What the **fuck**."

_That word again. That's what Shepard said she did to me, and to herself, that first night._

Zavala had let his voice get louder, and louder, and louder, as he apparently established that nothing seemed broken and went ahead and hit Alenko with a second shot of medigel. The older biotic moaned loudly, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Plate number... of the transport?"

"I-M-2. D-U-M. 2-L-V," Tom answered him.

Despite the Utter Destruction of Everything, Vega snorted in amusement. "I'm going to go back to the person I'm _actually_ supposed to be taking care of. Let yourselves out, re-lock the fucking door, and when you go upstairs, tell the Ibarras it was a localized tremor. Message Osorio the truth; tell him I said to call emergency services and report that our _boiler blew out_ , but we have everything under control."

\--

_*I* told her to put the damn amp in. She wasn't ready, and *I* told her to suck it up and protect herself. Chalk up another badly-perceived limit for James Vega._

James spent a half hour carefully removing the loose debris from the bedroom, everything he thought he could sensibly shift without waking Shepard, pausing every five minutes to check on her. He placed the (strangely intact) bedroom door over the shattered spot in the bedroom floor (approximately where Kadian had been standing before the Warp bubble collapsed). He collected the clothes, folded them, and - since the kitchen had survived unmolested - set them on the dining table in piles. He stacked the surviving books in the back corner by the refrigerator.

Once he felt he'd made the room somewhat safe, should Shepard wake up and try to get out of bed, Vega took a break and pulled out a beer that Alenko had left in their fridge. As he sucked it down, James looked around the living room and shook his head.

 _That bastard was damn lucky he had a Barrier up_.

Vega hadn't been squirreling away cleaning equipment just in case Shepard blew up the apartment, but it was true that he and Zavala had scammed a bunch of stuff from Hawks Ave. He started collecting everything that was too damaged to reuse, shoving all of it into large contractor garbage bags.

By 02:00, he had four sacks crammed full of debris, and a pile of stuff that he couldn't bag, but would make too much noise if dropped out a window. He stacked it by the door. As far as he was concerned, _Señor Alenko_ could carry that shit out. He dusted, swept, mopped, and was finally satisfied that the apartment was as "back to normal" as he was going to be able to get it, without replacement materials and power tools.

Shepard never stirred.

There was a very soft knock on the door. Vega felt his jaw clenching, and hoped like hell it was Osorio or Zavala, because-

He took the three steps that brought him within panel-bashing range, and threw the lock.

_Just my goddamn luck._

At least the asshole looked contrite, Vega allowed. "What. Do. You. Want."

"Is she all right?"

"She hasn't woken up." Across the hall, Tom's door slid open, and the younger biotic stepped into the hall. He shook his head minutely at James, as if pleading with him not to start something. James glared at him.

Kaidan glanced over his shoulder at Tom, and stiffened slightly. "Is there - anything I can do?"

James thought fast, and a smile curled his lips. "Yeah. There is." Behind Alenko, Zavala flinched. "You can take these out." He stepped back just enough to gesture to the huge trash bags full of broken wallboard, wood, and shredded books, and set them in the hallway. " **Manually** , if you please. We don't need to wake the entire fucking neighborhood again." He watched as Kaidan grabbed up the garbage bags and shifted them a few feet toward the stairs; James wondered if he was checking to make sure he could lift them without biotics. 

Vega glanced at Zavala, "Are the Ibarras all right? I saw Osorio's message."

"Yeah, but..." Tom sighed. "I think they know. That we're biotics, at least. I'm fairly sure Luis saw Kaidan as he ran down the stairs; he might have seen me afterwards. It's pretty hard to hide a mass effect field during an emergency, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure shit out when there's at least two of us living in a building, and _just_ that building starts to shake. I tried to tell them it was a small quake, but Luis got this _look_ on his face like I was the WORST liar he'd ever seen, which..." Tom sniffed, "-is pretty funny if you think about it."

James winced. _Wonderful. I'm made at the job site, Kaidan and Tom get made at the apartment, and Shepard is still unconscious. Bang up job, everyone._ He winced again at his own pun.

Zavala took a couple steps forward and saw the pile of wood just inside the doorway. "Let's move that, too. Stack it in the hall, and we'll take everything to the dumpster now. By the looks of it, you've already done the majority of the clean-up."

"It might go without saying, but I'll say it: I'm staying here tomorrow. If either of you manage enough sleep, try to get in at Hawks Ave. I'll call the site in the morning, see if José is willing to provide us the scrap and hardware I need for the floor and wall repair, out of their excess. They won't be surprised I'm trying to swap them labor for supplies, and to borrow tools for tomorrow night. We'll get everything back to them ASAP."

Tom blinked. "Why not just call Hackett and Anderson?" Vega arched a brow at him until he answered his own question: "Cause maybe then they all find out how big of a danger she is, and poof - back in the brig. I get it. You can fix this?"

"Yeah, I can fix this. It's why they humor you with a shovel or a hammer and a handful of nails; they want _me_ back, and you're my friend." Tom harrumphed and it made Vega, surprisingly, smile. "It also means we're more likely to get the tools. If so, we can meet on site after the afternoon shift and move the stuff with a few of the larger handcarts."

"I could borrow a shuttle," Kaidan quietly offered.

"It's only nine blocks," Tom replied.

"Yeah," James said, but then he re-thought it. Better to give Alenko something constructive to do that also kept him away from Shepard. "Then again, he's right - all that stuff gets heavy fast. We're supposed to be poor, though, so what about a transport? Something that looks like it's on its last cylinder?"

Kaidan nodded. "I can do that."

"OK, we have a plan. I'll message Osorio and have him check in on the Ibarras in the morning and see if they had any damage, and we can fix that, too."

"Pretty sure they're fine," Tom said. "Except, you know, dealing with the sheer terror of living with a bunch of biotics, one whom _barely_ has her powers under control." He sighed. "At least... it seemed to me like it was mostly your side of the building that got shaken." He looked at Kaidan.

"Upstairs is fine, as far as I can tell."

James sighed. "I'll ask Osorio about his place in the ack-emma."

\--

After they left, Vega debated for ten minutes what to do about _maybe_ getting some sleep _and_ staying where he could watch Eliza in case she started another night terror. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, what had actually seemed to _work_ while they were in the Null Room, AND what his adrenaline-drained body was _insisting_ would be _easiest_... but part of him kept thinking about their 'complicated' week, and flashing back to her telling him he wasn't a gentleman.

_¡Ah poco! ¡A la chingada!_

He started to _quietly_ drag the soft reclining chair (which had miraculously survived the destruction) into the bedroom. He probably should have just lifted the damn thing and carried it inside, because one of the feet hit the hole in the floorboards, and the entire chair screeched a halt and fell over with another loud bang.

 _This_ one woke Shepard up.

"What the- ow. Headache."

"Eliza," James said quietly, thinking _how do I explain this without ruining ANY chance she has at more sleep?_ "I heard you have another nightmare. I was trying to drag the reclining chair in here, so I could sleep in it, and it tipped over."

_Nothing about the blown-out wall. Nothing about the missing door. Nothing about the ragged hole in the floor, currently covered by the aforementioned door._

He couldn't see her in the dark, and so had no way to know if she'd already gone back to sleep or was struggling to get out of bed, so he concentrated on trying to pick the chair back up out of the gap between the makeshift hole-cover and the intact floorboards.

He heard her clear her throat. "It's, um, a big bed, James. I promise I won't attack you if you get in. I mean... I'm a gentleman," he could hear tired laughter in her voice, "unless otherwise invited."

James snorted. _Dios. OK, don't have to ask me twice._

"Funny. OK, let me take the chair back out."

Vega lifted the rocker, carefully carried it to approximately where the door _had been_ , and then back out into the living room. He set it on a still-sturdy piece of floor, out of the direct path between bedroom and bathroom.

He thought Shepard had fallen asleep, yet as soon as he laid down, she rolled towards him and wrapped both of her arms around his massive left one, laying her head quite close to his left shoulder.

_...uhhh..._

James felt his brain fritz. He tried to remember the last time he'd slept - _just_ slept - with any other woman, and came up empty. It was only _this_ woman.

"You're OK?"

"Mmmmm. Hmm?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, Lola."

\--

Vega woke up out of nightmares twice more during the next five hours, dreams in which Kaidan Alenko had done something irretrievably stupid to his commanding officer on board the SR-1. The third time he woke up, the alarm on his omni-tool was advising him it was nearly O-seven-hundred; if he wanted to call the site before José left his office, he'd better shake his tail.

He eased away from a still-clinging Shepard, slipped out of bed, and stepped _over_ the prone door on his way to to kitchen. In the light from Shepard's windows, it actually looked to be in pretty decent shape; last thing he needed was to crack it. He messaged Hawks Ave and started coffee brewing. About the same time he was able to pour a cup, James found himself telling José that the boiler in their building had exploded last night.

"Manager's already done the plumbing repairs - we had water for coffee, anyway - so that's a good sign. The rest is just cosmetic stuff: I'll need scrap wallboard, plaster, scrap oak hardwood: 'bout a meter square, plus a bit more to ease it in, make it look less like an obvious patch. Three studs, some framing wood, nails for the framing, screws for the wallboard, maybe a new set of hinges; door itself looked OK." James wrapped up with the request to borrow tools.

José was laughing by the time he said "oak hardwood" and kept snickering all the way through until Vega asked for the tools, where he sighed. "You come onto my site and beat up my guys and now you want I should give you my excess stock? You _loco, hombre?_ "

James made a face at the man in the hologram. "No, I'm offering to work for free on a Sunday and finish digging out that _pinche_ foundation in exchange for you saving my building manager's ass."

José's eyebrows went up. "Oi, that is different. You get your building manager to help on the site one day, and we call it even, hey?"

Vega's rolled his eyes at the holo. "I _might_ be able to get Robert to come down and help for an _afternoon_ , José, but don't push it. Is the excavator fixed? We'll never finish without it."

_And of course NOW I feel guilty about my amateur sabotage job._

José grinned. "Ieee, Si. Ramón fixed it yesterday afternoon while you rested your face." He cackled at James.

"Nice. Tomas and his Russian friend were supposed to be there today, either both shifts or afternoon. They make it in?"

"I dunno. You called me before I could go out there. _Güey,_ I need to go."

"I'll be over tonight to pick up the stuff. And José - they _don't_ work for free today. Just me. And maybe Roberto, when I explain how solid you were." 

Vega hung up, satisfied that things were reverting to whatever passed for normal. That is, until he went out into the living room, and Shepard was standing next to the reclining chair surveying the damage with the second-saddest eyes he'd ever seen.

\--

"Look, Lola, it's handled. And-" he balked at trying to explain what Zavala had said about her biotic field, instead reassuring her, "I should be able to get it fixed tonight. l promised to work tomorrow to pay for the supplies, but Tom or Robert will be here."

"But not Kaidan." Shepard seemed... _somber_ , now that he'd explained what had actually happened.

"I think it might be best if you didn't spend a ton of 'alone time' with him, yeah." James paused, wincing inside at how _very_ jealous he sounded. "Don't you?"

She sipped her coffee slowly, put the cup down precisely, and then met his eyes. "God knows I don't _want_ to. But he'll find it odd."

"I don't give a damn, Eliza. _All_ I care about is keeping you safe. I don't feel like I did a very good job this week, so now I'm apparently laying down the law." He sighed. "Tell him it's my fault."

She chuckled, very briefly, and then sighed again. "I could have killed you all." She put her head down on the table. "I **knew** I have shouldn't have put the damn amp back in yet."

James also sighed. "Another thing you can blame me for. It's OK - I have wide shoulders."

He heard another noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, muffled by the table, before she picked her head up. "I just- I was doing so WELL. I don't get it."

_I think I'm starting to, unfortunately._

James had been mulling over his suspicions regarding what had happened on board the original _Normandy_. Maybe _nothing_ had happened. Maybe there had been a mutual attraction, and it hadn't worked out. But - perhaps due to his dreams, perhaps simply because she had clearly _targeted_ Alenko - he was becoming convinced her first officer had developed feelings for her, pursued her a _bit_ too far, and someone had gotten hurt. He _hoped like hell_ he was wrong.

_And here she and I are... thinking about having sex. Arguably the stupidest thing we could be doing right now._

"Look, how about breakfast? You should eat. If you make extra, don't wait for me, just save me some. While you eat, call Osorio? Ask him if the building checks are in progress or done, and if the place still looks structurally sound. Tell him I have a plan to do the repairs up here. I'm going up to see the Ibarras."

Eliza bit her lip, "You don't want me to go with you?"

James sighed. "Just me, this time. I'm going to be lying through my teeth to them, and you don't need to see that."

\--

There turned out to be a lot less lying than James had reluctantly planned.

Luis Ibarra was curious, exceedingly intelligent...

...and he'd heard a _glowing_ Alenko yell **"Is it Shepard?"** , last night.

James found himself baring his soul in the Ibarras' kitchen. He told them Commander Shepard had returned to Earth to testify about the Collectors, that the threat was bigger than anyone knew. He explained she'd been sent to spy on the Batarians, and that destroying the Alpha Relay had been the price of stopping the Bad Guys for a little while longer.

Sure, he'd shaded the corners here and there, but the core of what he told them was the truth, and he was completely sincere when he urged them to carefully consider what they wanted next. Vega figured they would be offered a considerable amount of 'financial assistance' in exchange for staying quiet.

Luis was inclined to pridefully maintain that their silence did _not_ need to be purchased. Adelia, as Eliza had observed, was a far more practical creature. She understood, better than Luis apparently did, that Shepard was a target. She sensed that James was in absolute earnest about getting them somewhere safe, since it was rapidly growing too dangerous for them to blithely remain in the building.

"That nice Mr. Zavala? And Roberto? They are... with you?" Adelia seemed to be absorbing the enormity of their cover far more adroitly than Luis, as well.

"Si. All of us. We're all here to protect Shepard. Er, Lola."

Adelia sighed. "And you think this... Admiral... will help us go somewhere safer?"

Luis started to say something, but Adelia took his hand, silencing him. James turned to Luis and spoke before he could. "Yes. I know he will. We will keep up the pretense that you are still here for a week or so, but you should leave soon and have your things sent. If I were in your situation, I would try to move _outside_ the city; if there is any place in the suburbs or countryside you ever wanted to live... this is your chance."

Adelia slowly nodded, gesturing to Luis. The two of them started a rapid back and forth in Spanish that James tried not to listen to while he called Hackett, mentally preparing to guilt the Admiral into buying them a small house somewhere far safer than inner-city Vancouver, without actually explaining why it was imperative they leave.

\--

Around 08:00, James drank a liter of water, downed his share of breakfast, begged Shepard to stay put for a few hours until Zavala and Alenko got home, and fell back into bed. There had been a message from the biotic duo while he was upstairs; they had in fact gone to the construction site. Osorio was examining the building backwards and forwards, _and_ \- according to Shepard - had claimed to know enough rough carpentry to help with repairs. Hackett had assured him that the Ibarras would be moved to a tiny (but furnished) house in Port Moody. Three more hours of sleep was his most prudent plan.

Shepard came back from a shower, and again snuggled up to him. It woke him up, it was too warm to cuddle... _Dios, ¿a quién le importa? I have a feeling this is as good as this day gets._

He turned enough to gather her into his arms and went back to sleep.

\--

He was not wrong about the day.

It didn't get _substantially worse_ when Alenko and Zavala showed up demanding food, but it was annoying to have to disentangle himself from the Commander and shuffle into the kitchen to re-heat leftover beans and rice and _mole_. It was annoying to have the two biotics back in his space, clearly wondering what they'd interrupted, as both he and Shepard were sleep-tousled and irritable.

"I arranged a truck", Alenko was trying to explain, while Vega's patience strained against a short leash. It had finally hit home that he'd agreed to work into the night to put their apartment back together, then work on a Sunday to pay for it. Furthermore, he'd realized he wouldn't be adverse to smacking the person he was coming to hold responsible.

"Good," he replied shortly, sipping coffee. He turned to Tom, "You guys got paid, right?"

Zavala nodded. "Though I don't know why you didn't just switch up the labor with us; we all could have done a free shift."

James snorted. "José doesn't want free random labor; he wanted a promise that I'd come in early tomorrow and help him catch up the schedule. _That's_ why he's letting us skim off his percentage. There's always grift on jobs like this - extra supplies, extra materials - but if he doesn't make his deadline, he's toast. He probably could have sold the stuff he'll give us tonight for more than he's paying you and Alenko to work... especially the oak flooring." James swore. "Forgot to ask him for sealer and paint. _Joder_ , I'll try to grab it this afternoon, anyway."

Tom nodded sagely, as if he understood, and James found himself laughing. "Forget it. I'll figure it out. Are you guys going back, or do you need sleep? I know it's my night to run the block, but I'm going to have my hands full with the repairs. Though Osorio claims he can help; if that's true, we may be basically done in a few hours, barring drying time."

"I'm going to sleep; Kaidan is going back to site." Behind him, the older biotic nodded. "He'll head to bed after we transport the materials, and I'll take the night run. It'll all get covered, James." Tomas smiled wistfully. "It's a sound plan. As long as Anderson or Hackett don't show up here this afternoon, we should get away with it."

\--

José was as good as his word. Even better, since he'd thought of things - like the paint and the sealer, like wallboard tape, brushes, rags, a level - that Vega hadn't listed. It was only white paint, and the polyurethane was cheap crap, but beggars couldn't be choosers. James was damn relieved when Alenko's friend - swearing like a sailor in Russian - showed up promptly at 17:00 in a rusted-out truck transport that had seen better _millennia_ , and helped them load everything into the bed.

By the time they found a place to double-park on Princess Ave, Tom and Robert were waiting on the steps to help carry everything upstairs. James looked around and then arched a brow at Zavala "Lola?"

"Upstairs with the Ibarras. Helping them pack, I think. She also ordered a ton of Chinese food; it came about ten minutes ago, so we can eat once we move this stuff."

James nodded. "Let's get on it, then."

\--

Shepard, eyes a bit red and puffy, showed up fifteen minutes later. James went to the door to meet her and - when he saw her face - held out an arm, in case she- 

-and she did, coming to his side and letting him one-arm-hug her briefly. He sighed, and assured her, "I know it sucks. In the end, though, I think this will be better for them."

Eliza nodded. "I know. I just- I feel responsible. I'm disrupting _everyone's_ goddamn lives with this crap."

Surprisingly, Osorio spoke up "Commander, you did them good, whether you know it or not. This neighborhood is not safe; Port Moody is. They will _own_ something, finally. They may even be able to have a baby now, and Luis has always wanted one, before it is too late." Robert met her gaze and held it, nodding firmly. "This is a good thing for them, and they will thank you someday."

The room went quiet for a few moments after that, people eating their Kung Pao Chicken, Beef Lo Mein, General Tso's Tofu, and Shrimp Fried Rice in silence.

Finally, Shepard swallowed the bite she was chewing and sighed. "Maybe Port Moody is far enough out that if something happens on the waterfront, they'll be all right. Maybe we'll hear from them. At least I _used_ to hear from the people whose lives I'd upended, letting me know they're OK." She smacked her omni-tool with her right hand and scowled. "I won't be hearing from Adelia anytime soon, unless it's through you, Osorio."

"They're... still stopping all your messages?" Kaidan asked. He looked uncomfortable, and yet intensely interested in the answer.

"Yeah. We don't know for how much longer."

"Ah."

Eliza blinked. "Why?"

Alenko shrugged, realized the others were _all_ looking at him, and bent his head forward; to James, it looked like he was unconsciously ducking the question.

"I messaged you, the day PsyOps got word you intended to come in - the day before you surrendered."

Shepard stared at him. "What did it say? Do you still have a copy?"

This request appeared to make Alenko even _more_ uncomfortable. James felt a flash of... _concern_... that Shepard seemed to care so much, although he didn't envy the Lieutenant her version of the third degree.

"It was short. Just- asking how you were, if they were treating you OK-" he stopped.

Eliza arched a brow, and James glanced from her to Kaidan, to see how he took it. He actually looked a bit sick. "Wow. Well... that's _ironic_."

"Yeah. I found that out when Tom briefed me."

"You never thought it might be good to... I dunno, to show up?"

Kaidan stiffened. "I did my best to warn Anderson and Hackett they needed to get you out of there ASAP." He sighed, "Shepard, did you really need another crazy biotic riding in to make noise? Keeping my distance was the best way I knew to prove to the Defense Committee that I'm impartial, going into what is probably going to be a _railroad_ of a trial. You _want_ them to believe my testimony is _objective_ , right?"

James _winced_ , saw that Tom and Robert did as well. Shepard... didn't flinch. Her eyes went opaque. Hard as stone.

"An excellent point, Lieutenant. _Why_ would I have wanted the head of PsyOps to show up and demand my release from a prison meant to torture biotics? Impartiality is so much more important."

And _that_ pretty much killed dinner. 

\--

James honestly couldn't believe he was _looking forward_ to doing the repairs, since it meant no one but him and Osorio would be in the apartment. The drama he'd been soaking in all week had seemingly dissipated. Eliza was upstairs again, having taken the rest of their Chinese food to the Ibarras. Alenko was asleep (and would stay in his apartment until tomorrow if he knew what was good for him).

Zavala had disappeared at the same time Kaidan left, then popped his head back in briefly to let them know he was off to the clubs. Looking at him, James had to admit that Tom was the right choice for club-hopping duty: he was wearing excessively-tight black pants, a deep crimson short-sleeved T that showed off his 'tattoos', and had slicked back his longish black hair into a short tail. His target tonight was Gabriela, if he could find her - it had been two days since she'd shown up on site.

 _Whatever. Fixing all of this is going to go smoothly and quickly... even if Osorio doesn't actually know what he's doing. I'm going to finish by 21:00, and then sit down on the fucking couch and watch a vid with Eliza like some sort of normal couple. If we can get through that... if she lets me stay with her again... if she **actually** sleeps through... without destroying anything... maybe we can talk about Kaidan_ tomorrow _night._

\--

Osorio had vastly under-sold his utility. Measuring, cutting, and piecing the oak boards- the entire process of fixing the floor - took less than an hour. James was pleasantly shocked that - by the time he'd cut and knocked in new framing and re-hung the door, Robert was basically ready to sand down the floor patch.

" _Sort-of good_ at rough carpentry?" James ruefully quoted. "That patch is perfect. I can see it, but only because I _know_ that Alenko almost met his Maker there. Once it's sanded and sealed, I bet it completely blends. Honestly, Robert, you're not doing me any favors by covering up your talents. It would have made way more sense to have _you_ at the construction site."

Osorio laughed. "No, James; Tom can not abide being caged, no matter how often the door opens. I am a - how do you say? _homebody?_ \- at heart. This job is perfect for me, as going to the dances is perfect for Tom."

Vega nodded in understanding. "Well, which would you prefer? Sanding or drywall?"

"I will stay with the floor, if you do not mind. I think I will pull out one last piece and cut its replacement longer." He pointed. "That one. It will balance the joints, and I have just enough left to do it. Your man - José? - added a belt sander to the tools. It will be the work of a child to smooth this out."

James laughed. "It doesn't have to be perfect, Robert, just functional."

Osorio shrugged. _"Todo lo que vale la pena hacer vale la pena."_

\--

Shepard returned from the Ibarras well before 20:00, and - after observing the work on the floor and wall - tentatively offered to brush on the poly so that Osorio could run his nightly building checks. Osorio looked from her to James and flashed the latter a small smile.

Vega snorted. "Just go. Unlikely she's going to manage to knock it all down again unless she suddenly passes out."

Eliza blinked and then punched James in the arm, "Hey!"

Robert began laughing, and let himself out, locking the door behind him. James... had to wonder if _everyone_ assumed he and the Commander were... 'keeping company.' It was unsettling.

"Just... be gentle with it, Lola. It's not paste. It needs to go on in layers, sanding in between. And it's so humid right now that it will take longer to dry, so-"

Shepard let out an aggravated breath. "I get it, James. Thin coat, let it dry." She shrugged. "What are we doing once we get the painting and trim done?"

James felt himself go warm at her casual use of 'we.' And he remembered his plan. "Well... if the smell isn't too bad, I figured maybe we could actually do something 'normal' for a change, like sit on the couch and watch a vid."

Shepard, in the middle of cracking open the small jar of polyurethane, glanced up at James in surprise. "That... would be kind of nice, actually. 'Normal' is... highly under-rated."

\--

The message from Osorio flashed up - blocking out the vid they were watching - about the same time that James and Eliza heard him yelling for help near the bottom of the stairs. James threw open their door and said _"Stay"_ while he used his code access to break into Tom's apartment and grab the medkit. When he came back out, he wasn't shocked that Shepard was gone, having ignored his direct order like the superior officer she still was. He ran down the stairs.

Zavala was covered in blood. He'd had his nose broken, and that always bled, but it also looked like he might have been cut up; his shirt was either sliced or ripped. Shepard grabbed the case and gave him two shots of medigel before either of them started bandaging.

He suddenly remembered that he'd wanted to kick the crap out of Tom himself, just yesterday.

 _Someone beat me to it._

\--

Vega ordered Osorio to arm himself and clean up two blocks of blood trail. "Ping me every half minute until you're back in the fucking building, then send me an all-clear. And check every damn camera. _And_ the fire escape. The whole drill, again."

Osorio nodded grimly, and went back to his apartment.

"What next?" Eliza calmly asked. She was applying careful pressure to Zavala's chest wound, which didn't appear to have perforated anything serious, while Vega was using butterflies and gauze on all the other cuts.

"One of us stays here and keeps bandaging, and one of us pulls out the couch and changes the sheets. Unless you have a strenuous objection to him bunking with us tonight." Eliza opened her mouth to respond, but James cut her off. "He already suspects we're sleeping together, Eliza. He's also _way_ out of it, and he'll probably sleep for a while while the stims take over and force him to clot. I think he's incredibly fucking lucky he didn't bleed out. Plus the chest stabs having missed his heart and lungs."

"I wasn't going to argue. He stays with us. Do we wake Kaidan?"

James snorted. "What for? Can he heal with biotics?"

Eliza raised both brows. "No... though he's a better-than-average medic." She hesitated, then informed him, "But he's Tom's immediate superior."

_How does she know that?_

"If you think it's best, call him."

Shepard blinked. "I don't, necessarily. I was asking your opinion."

James cleared his throat. "My opinion is we stop the bleeding, get him into bed, maybe wake him up enough get water into him. If his pressure doesn't recover and he absolutely needs a transfusion, we take him to Mount St. Joseph."

Eliza nodded. "We should probably give him a separate dose of antibiotics. Are they in the kit?"

James found the bottle and another injector. "Yes." He ran a head through his hair. "OK, you probably know what you're doing here better than I do. I'll go prep the couch." He got up, turned, and then swiveled back to say "I swear to God, Lola - if you see _anyone_ you don't recognize, you'd better not shy away from using that damn amp."

James threw himself up the stairs, grumbling about transforming Princess Ave into a 'fucking gated community' once the Ibarras were gone.

\--

James took the first 'watch', letting Shepard sleep. There were no night terrors, no one died, no one even had to go to the hospital... though maybe they _should_ have taken Zavala in, James realized, when he ran a high fever despite medigel AND additional antibiotics. Vega began to quietly worry about poisons.

James heard later that Tom awakened around 01:00 and _demanded_ food and water, but that Shepard only gave him the latter, sip by careful sip, until he started cursing at her. He waited until she set the carafe down on the coffee table, Pulled, and _drained_ its contents. He woke up again around 03:00, and she offered to make him eggs. He was borderline cordial when he demanded she 'fucking make him _something-anything_ to eat.' He gulped down eggs, beans, toast, more water, and zonked out again. By that point, Shepard had told Vega, she was pretty sure the numerous wounds in stomach and intestines must have responded to medigel.

At 04:00, Eliza went into her repaired bedroom and softly called to James from well outside grabbing distance. She started laughing when he grumbled into her pillows "I'll have you know, I had that _all planned out_."

She briefed him on Tom's condition as he forced himself to get out of bed. They traded places, one-arm-hugging as they passed each other. If Vega held on a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, well... he figured it was better than throwing her onto her back in the middle of the bed and kissing her senseless.

_Better for **Tom** , anyway._

Zavala slept through to 07:00, and James was just about to wake Shepard to take over for him when his omni-tool buzzed, and it was Alenko. 

\--

_While having to hang out with him all day wasn't my first choice, 'cheating' with biotics is making this go a HELL of a lot faster._

It was true that if Zavala hadn't crawled home last night, bleeding from a dozen stab wounds, Vega likely would have declined Alenko's offer to join him at Hawks Ave. But damn if Alenko's Lift and Throw hadn't just chopped his 'working Sunday' in half. They'd have to switch back to doing it the 'old-fashioned way' as soon as more crew showed up, but for now... 

_And it keeps him away from Eliza, which is all to the good._

They got lucky their first site visitor was José; unlucky, that he caught the end of a telekinetic move, his eyebrows both bordering in the area of his hairline, mouth forming a perfect "O."

James hopped out of the Bobcat and steered José into a corner, blocking his view of Kaidan. He quickly explained that their building repairs were done, everything had been returned, and if José could just keep the damn site clear for the next few hours, he and Yarik could probably finish the excavation by noon.

José was _not_ an idiot. "He is good, then, si? Nothing will end up broken?" The site manager looked at James with dubious, knowing eyes.

Vega sighed. "Si, José - he's very good. Get out of here and let us finish this like I promised."

José turned, began to walk away, then swung back. "And no pay for him, si?"

Again, Vega sighed. _I will **never** miss those summers doing construction._ "Of course not. This is our thanks for giving us the materials to fix my manager's apartment."

\--

Job almost complete, they grabbed a break around 11:00, each drinking a beer from José's cooler. James watched in barely-concealed amazement as Alenko inhaled a baked chicken like the one he'd brought to dinner on Friday; piece after piece disappeared into his mouth.

_It's almost... mythic... watching them eat._

"I got a message from Lola. She and Osorio are taking turns with Tom. She judged he could use another shot of medigel, but he threw a fit when she went to administer it, told her to snap his nose back into place first."

Kaidan nearly choked. "Did she do it?"

"Apparently. God forbid he not keep his model-perfect looks." Alenko chewed, looking like he wanted to comment, but James could see he was treading _very_ carefully today, as if loathe to piss anyone off. "What?"

The older biotic sighed. "A broken nose is distinctive. It's a good identifier. Tom knows that. He would have had it re-broken and re-set later."

_Huh. Yet another reason I'm glad I'm not a spy._

"That's... dedication."

Alenko laughed. "Don't misunderstand me. Tom _is_ quite vain. But he's also a professional." Kaidan sobered. "No issues with his biotics last night?"

James shook his head. "I don't think so. Of course, I took the first shift, when he was out cold. Eliza took the second shift, when he woke up. I don't know what she might have had to do, other than feed him four thousand calories."

Alenko was looking at him oddly, and James arched a brow, mentally running back over what he said. _Four thousand calories? No: the man just devoured an entire chicken. Second shift... OH._

He'd called her 'Eliza.' _Mierda._

He decided to see this, instead, as divine intervention. "The only person who's been having trouble is Lola. For obvious reasons."

Kaidan blinked, and looked genuinely confused. "What reasons? Do you actually know what's wrong with her?"

 _'He doesn't know what he's doing', Tom said._ How _can he **not** , though?_

"Well... I know _something_ happened when she was a child that still gives her a touch of PTSD, something she kept quashed with the knowledge that her biotic powers were so strong, she MUST be safe. Then your people allowed her to be thrown into a biotic prison that stripped away those powers, and she started having severe panic attacks-" Kaidan jerked with shock, but James kept going, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. "And I know she was _just_ starting to get a handle on those panic attacks when we got to the apartment - she was _just_ starting to feel free and powerful and _worthy_ again..."

Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko full-body flinched, almost as if he knew what was coming.

"... when _you_ fucking showed up, and the building almost fell over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish that you haven't seen before:  
> Dios, ¿a quién le importa? ~ God, who cares?  
> Todo lo que vale la pena hacer vale la pena ~ Anything worth doing is worth doing well.
> 
> anyone who actually lives in Vancouver might realize that i've done a ton of research to get this story somewhat accurate to _today's_ city map. i figure that the slum areas tend to remain the slum areas in some respects, and hospitals tend to stay hospitals (the better to fight through, eh, Garrus?)
> 
> there is a LOT of plot in this one. if you enjoyed it, please let me know; we're finally getting somewhere. if you hated it, let me know. basically, just feel free to drop a comment if you're here and digging the story.


	17. Arrests and Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plots get plotting. stuff happens. there is a tiny bit of backstory that _might_ merit a small trigger warning. Reality starts to rain down on our protagonists.
> 
> i hate when that happens.

James spent the rest of Sunday alternately dozing and trying to nurse an increasingly irritable Vanguard. He repeatedly bit his tongue at Tom's demands for attention, water, food... even to be _carried_ to the bathroom- 

_Who, exactly, do I have to thank for setting **this** unfortunate precedent while I was at work: Osorio... or Shepard?_

James kept getting messages from Eliza and Robert as they finished packing the Ibarras. The weatherbeaten transport and its equally-weatherbeaten driver (courtesy of Anderson, via Alenko) made another appearance just before dinner, and it was reported to James that there were tears and hugs all around before the Hispanic couple climbed onto the bench seat of the cab and were driven off to a new life.

_Can't say I'm that sorry to have missed another emotional scene. Dios, I hope they'll be safe now._

He got a message from José, railing at him about the excavator breaking again, and rolled his eyes, thankful they'd finished early.

Osorio ordered _tapas_ for dinner, and read the entire group in on the data he'd pulled from the camera feeds while they ate, beginning with very early that morning. Alenko (who'd spent the afternoon sleeping off a headache from nearly five hours of biotically Throwing dirt that morning) gently teased Tom regarding the younger man's 'literal half-assed Barrier'. Tom replied that if Kaidan thought he could have done better getting jumped in a dark room by a half-dozen guys, well, he was welcome to be the one that club-hopped next time.

Since the most relevant vid showed Tom crawling home but no one following him, they unanimously concluded that Zavala's attackers had (a) definitely intended to kill him, and (b) likely assumed he'd bled out. Tom had been alert enough mid-morning to assemble an official report, which Vega had read after work, taking savage pleasure in the fact that it detailed how Zavala's initial Biotic Charge had killed Enrique. Remembering smashed Batarian skulls on Omega, he wondered if _La Penumbra_ had hushed it up. He wondered if - even with all the intel Osorio had sent to Hackett that morning - the others had been caught yet.

"I'm only _sure_ of Enrique, but it's a good bet I killed the man who was standing right next to him, too. I hit them so hard, I broke my own damn face. Only thing that Charge is good for if you're not wearing actual armor. Damn cool-down."

"Why I dislike relying on biotics on principle," Vega snarked. Zavala glared at him, and then sweetly asked to be carried to the bathroom again.

\--

Vega knew Tomas was recovered enough, physically, to sleep in his own apartment, but he also recognized the hallmarks of a young solider who'd had a close call. Zavala was clearly shell-shocked from barely getting out of the club alive. So James didn't push it. He transferred a copy of the _bruja_ book onto Tom's omni-tool, warned him that sound really did travel in the apartment, and curled up in the recliner.

Having Tomas in their apartment one more night also meant - given the Vanguard's increased alertness - it was impossible for Vega to pursue Shepard. He had _planned_ to finally get some answers regarding her relationship with Kaidan Alenko this weekend. Or if they got... _distracted_... this was _supposed_ to finally be his chance to kiss her. He'd been dreaming about it for days.

_In between dreaming about being Thrown into walls._

"Shepard's already asleep?"

"Yeah. Hopefully it'll be a quiet night. We could fucking use one."

"James..." Tom paused, and Vega flipped enough to glance over his shoulder at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're a good guy. You know that?"

James snorted. " _Mierda_ , losing all that blood addled your brain. Go to sleep."

\--

There was no question any of them would be trying for a work crew Monday morning. Instead, around 07:00, Shepard and Vega fed Zavala a huge breakfast. By 08:00, they'd reinstalled him in his own apartment. 

James jumped into the shower afterwards, wondering the entire time if he might get interrupted, trying to figure out what he'd do if he _did_ get a visitor... only to have nothing happen. He exited the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and grumbling discontentedly in Spanish, to find 2-B empty save him - Eliza hadn't yet returned from across the hall.

_Ni modo... kinda got wound up over nothing, eh, Vega?_

He was walking over to the couch when their apartment door opened. Eliza stuck her head in, saw he was out of the shower, and mentioned apprehensively that Tom had insisted he wanted a shower too.

Vega rolled his eyes. "Did he _say_ he needs help?"

Shepard shrugged, but her concern was obvious. "Not exactly. I'd just feel better if-"

"Yeah, I get it." He sighed loudly, yanked open the closet door, let his towel drop, and slid into a clean pair of jeans, fastening buttons as he grumbled in Spanish about the general unfairness of life. He slammed the closet door, glanced once at Shepard's red face, and grumbled " _Espero que haya disfrutado_ " before stomping out into the hallway and throwing open the door to 2-A.

_I swear, Tom, you had better be actually shaking with the strain of standing by the time I get in there._

\--

Everyone being clean, fed, and somewhat rested, they settled in Tom's living room to take Anderson's call regarding the intel on the Hawks Ave crew. The money trail appeared to have died with Enrique (whose body had washed ashore downriver from the club) and Josef (who'd been found near the railroad tracks in a separate dump site). Anderson was frustrated that - even having ID'd two of the alleged four other men, based on Tom's perusal of their digital lineup, as local businessmen - they hadn't managed to track them down yet. Or get much information on them at all. And no one had seen Gabriela since Saturday night.

Further muddying the waters, the Defense Committee had chosen _this morning_ to officially open their investigation into Shepard's various treasonous acts. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko was the first witness they'd called. He'd been subpoenaed to offer evidence not only in Shepard's trial, but also in Jeff Moreu's.

As was becoming something of a pattern, dinner the night before had broken up with him cautiously sharing this news, and it had gone over in 2-B like a lead balloon. Kaidan spent the rest of the meal ducking Shepard's accusatory glances, leaving minutes after he'd finished eating. She stuck around for a _bit_ longer, but still disappeared into the bedroom around 20:00 and presumably fell asleep early.

Anderson, however, didn't sound _at all_ concerned about _the trial_ during his call. And - given recent history - James was beginning to suspect the Admiral had already read Alenko's affidavits, which the biotic had told them he'd be spending much of Sunday evening finalizing.

_Wouldn't be the first time Anderson knew the outcome before the official proceedings even took place._

Vega tried to convince himself that Kaidan testifying today was actually a _good_ thing. It had kept the older biotic too busy to mess with Eliza's energy field. Despite him dropping bad news and then running for the hills, there hadn't been a night terror or panic attack last night. And hey - the fucking neighborhood hadn't come down around their ears yet. Tom wasn't dead. Things could have been **way** worse.

\--

Robert's omni-tool showed a semi-constant stream of pictures from the mounted cameras; Vega was amazed that the man could handle a complicated installation and still be alert enough to the vid feed that he pointed out two people who'd lingered on Princess Ave fifteen seconds longer than was desirable. With a quick keypad stroke, the feed froze, recording a still image, then returned to its live stream. Osorio went right back to screwing in supporting bolts.

 _This is what a combat tech can do, eh? The man is a machine._

James removed his omni-tool, ducked out onto the pavement of Princess Ave, and wrenched at the new gate with all his strength. It was solid. An excellent - and fairly quick - install. Every time he thought he couldn't be more impressed with Sergent Osorio, the man did something supremely competently and rose in his estimation.

This was the first half of what would become a functional man-trap. Later tonight, at least. If anyone on the street had asked James "Hot enough for ya?" he might have taken their head off. He knew it wasn't _actually_ 35 degrees C, but it surely felt that way with the humidity. He was more than ready to take a late siesta and finish the rest when it was a bit cooler, and Robert agreed.

As they both slowly climbed the stairs, James found himself wondering what Shepard was doing. With Adelia gone, Tom sound asleep, and the roof off-limits until they took down the fire escape, she might have passed a boring morning. Of course, as long as she hadn't left the building, she was safe, and that was all that really mattered right now.

_She also might **not** have passed a boring morning, but I don't need that picture in my head right now._

He found out when he entered the apartment that at least part of her time had been spent assembling a late lunch-type deli tray. He found her munching on a sandwich, sitting at his desk behind the screen. Resisting the urge to cross-examine her as to what she'd been up to, he idly inquired if she'd be interested in a few hands of poker.

"It is too hot to install the next gate." Robert explained. "The outer door is intact, and we will finish in a few hours when it gets cooler."

Shepard shrugged. "Sure. I'll take your money."

Coincidentally or not, Tom woke up in time to wander over to 2-B, demand lunch, and agree that he was always willing to 'embarrass superior officers.'

Vega, who'd been assembling a ham sandwich for himself, arched a brow and looked over the group indulgently.

_Suckers._

\--

Despite a surge of competitiveness at the outset, James had an incentive to everyone happy. To keep everyone's winnings more or less even... bar one. He even threw a hand here and a hand there (feeling like an alien in his own skin; he'd _never_ actually _let_ others win before), waiting for the right opportunity...

"Check."

"Huh." James arched a brow at Eliza, looking from her to his cards. When he glanced at Tomas, the biotic was fighting a smile. Osorio was drowsing; soon they'd need to get back to securing the entrance.

_Now or never._

"We-eall," he mused, "I was thinking about going all-in at this point, because this hand is **just** _that_ good, but... _what_ do you say we make it more... _interesting?_ "

Tom couldn't hold it in anymore; he tipped over on the couch, laughing so hard he was also groaning. "Ow... ow... ow... Vega, you _asshole_... ow...ow..."

Shepard glanced at Zavala, then arched an eyebrow back at James, and gestured with her cards. "Figured we'd get to this point sooner or later. Spit it out."

"I still have this... _little matter_ I was curious about. I mentioned it the day we moved in here... right after you nearly _scalped_ me..." he began.

Shepard drew in a quick, angry, breath, and expostulated "You mean after YOU basically **ORDERED** me - **me** \- to cut _your_ **damn** HAIR-"

Zavala lost his battle with both mirth and pain, and started rolling on the sofa, chortling and cursing Vega's parentage.

James couldn't help it, he started laughing too. "The point remains - I had something I wanted to ask, and _you_ ducked it. I want _that_ , in addition to your meager remaining chips."

Osorio, thanks to Tom's noise, was awake and frowning at Vega. "All-in is a binary state, no? It does not matter how many chips she has left; you are trying to beggar her."

James looked up at the ceiling, in a clear bid for divine assistance."Yes, Robert, but there's the spirit of _fairness_ to consider here. For Shepard to match her measly hundred credits to my _four_ hundred _plus_ credits isn't exactly _equitable._ "

At least... James hoped _she_ might see it that way.

Shepard was still glaring at him, but then her mouth softened and she looked smug. "So... you're telling me that the answer to this question is worth three hundred credits to you?"

Vega blinked. Zavala was still laughing, but he was also whimpering. Osorio heaved a deep sigh, and stood. "You two have returned to your sparring, and Tomas should not have to suffer the consequences. "Come, let us finish downstairs. Let the poor man get some more rest."

Tom recovered himself enough to sputter " _Don't_ listen to him. This is better than that the book you gave me. It's like... a live-action version."

Eliza's mouth fell open. She turned on Vega, ire in her eyes. "Do _not_ tell me you gave a _wounded_ soldier that **goddam** _bruja_ novel! James, the man is trying to heal GUT WOUNDS."

Vega shrugged. "I told him to be careful and stay quiet."

Osorio just shook his head, Shepard gaped like a fish, and Zavala started laughing (and whimpering) all over again.

\--

They finished securing the entrance. Osorio had done his rounds, grabbed food at 2-B, and then retired to the manager's apartment to wade through a plethora of choices regarding how far out to wire the neighborhood; where to mount more of his own tiny cameras, and where to simply hack into the streams of existing ones.

Upstairs, Lieutenant Alenko had presumably just returned from his day in court, making or breaking Shepard's career. Next door, Tom was supposedly administering a last shot of medigel, several shots of whiskey, and endeavoring to sleep through the night, alone, without nightmares of his own. Though - he assured James - if he did have a horrible dream about being nearly killed in _La Penumbra_ , he was unlikely to destroy the building.

And in 2-B, Vega had no _clue_ what to do with himself after his second shower. 

_Eliza is going to come out of that bathroom any damn minute. I need a fucking plan._

As if on cue, the door swung open and she slid out, dressed in PJs and toweling her dark brown hair.

_I'm so whipped._

"Truth," he said. She stopped toweling and looked at him where he sat on the couch. "I got the tattoos after my father tricked me into helping him deal drugs. I picked up a package, brought it home, and suddenly I was his runner." James cleared his throat. On second thought, this wasn't a very cheery story to seduce someone with, was it? But it was the question she'd asked, and he was committed now. 

"My uncle Emilio found me after, on the beach. I was... lost." He met Eliza's eyes. "I was thinking 'I'm done. I _just_ got my life together, enlisted, was chosen for special training because of my uncle's recommendation... and now it's over'. _Only_ the fact that my uncle was willing to throw down with Sanders - er, my father - saved my ass." James sighed. "That's why I have my mother's name. And these tattoos." He smiled wryly. "I thought about doing the whole 'barbed wire' thing, you know - but since my uncle kept me from _actually_ getting tossed into prison, I didn't feel I earned the wire. Flames... running up my neck, but not actually torching my head? They seemed to fit."

Eliza lowered the towel. The look on her face was sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"Now you. If you're ready to tell me."

Eliza blinked. "Tell you... what?"

James sighed again. "What happened when you were younger." He paused. "And... why - even though things got better - they got massively worse again after _Alenko_ showed up."

Eliza's mouth dropped open. Then she swallowed hard. "I told you... on the roof. I- I was..." She clenched her jaw. "I was attacked, a long time ago. The man who did it..." She closed her eyes. "He was a stronger biotic than I was - at that point. I didn't have his training, and I didn't have an amp."

_She won't use the word._

"He raped you." It was half-statement, half-question.

Eliza jerked in surprise, then turned away. "Yeah."

James got to his feet and very carefully, _very_ slowly, approached her. More slowly still, he touched her shoulder. She flinched. He removed his hand and bit his lip.

_Maybe it's a mistake to push this. Her career is hanging in the balance, and Alenko isn't gone yet. Still..._

"Eliza... you get that it wasn't your fault, right? You were a kid. And he - he was a _maldito hijo de **puta de mierda**._"

Shepard turned back to him. She'd taken out the brown contacts; her jade-green eyes were wide with shock. "I only recognized _one_ of those words."

" _Gracias a Dios_."

She snickered, then shakily let out a breath. The foxfire eyes filled with unshed tears.

"He nearly killed me."

James, suspicion confirmed, was filled with a righteous rage that he nonetheless carefully tamped down.

"What stopped him?"

Shepard shook her head. "No. No more tonight. I can't." She stiffened. "Besides, that's quite a bit in exchange for a story about you _not_ having to go to prison."

James nodded. "True." He sighed theatrically. "Not enough to get me to agree to have sex with you, but-"

Eliza's jaw dropped again, and James started laughing. He wasn't surprised when she swung at him, and easily dodged it. "Now, now. Don't start anything you're too afraid to finish."

She swore (in Spanish, which impressed the hell out of James) and swung at him again. He ducked, picked her up, and flung her over his shoulder. "Hey, now, I didn't say I wouldn't _sleep_ with you. Just that I'm not that easy."

_We can wait another night. Hell, another few nights. Get past Alenko's testimony. Maybe Liara actually finds her way here. Maybe not. But she'll tell me._

"You... ass! You're saying you're not willing to have sex with me until I tell you _everything_? RIGHT. We'll see about that-

"What was that bit about senior officers taking advantage of junior officers? I forget..."

He dropped her in their bed, and she rounded on him with incredulous eyes. Her mouth was working furiously, as if she had so many insults to lob at him, she couldn't choose just one.

" **Fine.** You want to know about New York City, I'll tell you."

James bent down and brought his mouth a few inches from hers. "Not tonight," he whispered. "You called it, and you were right. You don't need another panic attack, not for anything. Tell me at your own pace, or not at all, but don't wreck yourself. I told you - I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned forward, very slowly, and gently touched his lips to hers. She didn't react beyond a slight softening of her mouth - perhaps too surprised or conflicted - and he didn't linger... though he sorely wanted to. He went to get the lights, and fell into his side of the bed with a grunt.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to tell you, you know?"

"Tomorrow. Let's try for one more night without someone nearly dying."

She snorted. "This is us, remember?" She turned on her side and laid her head near his shoulder. He was awake for quite a while after Shepard's even breathing told him that she had fallen asleep.

\--

On Tuesday morning, James rolled out of bed and dressed just in time to sign off on a huge grocery delivery, for which - since it seemed like they were so often feeding _everyone_ \- he was grateful.

They got an update at 09:00 that Alliance soldiers had picked up the two businessmen, late last night.

Then, at 10:00 - exactly a week (to the hour) from their _first_ food delivery at the apartment - groceries were delivered _again_. Like the day after they'd moved in, the manifest for the shipment had been authorized by Admiral Steven Hackett. Shepard and Vega looked at each other, then scrambled to find the slip from the delivery at 06:30. When they compared it to the current receipt, it was obvious the signature on the early slip was fake. James started swearing a blue streak in Spanish and immediately sent a message to Anderson and Hackett.

By the time Hackett returned their call, they'd separated out the entire first order, and had identified several suspicious items. When they told Hackett about the double delivery, his face went grim.

"If you can't be sure, throw it out," he ordered. His face hardened further, then he, too, started swearing. "David's team _will_ find the other men who nearly killed Tom - _believe me_ , Lieutenant, but I think this development confirms that the group knows where Shepard is living. Tell Robert I said to batten down the hatches. As soon as one of those businessmen implicates the Sinclair Corporation, I'm handling the arrests there _personally_." Hackett ground his teeth together; James fancied he could hear an annoyed crackle come through the holo-feed. "When you sell yourself to the Batarian Hegemony and attempt to recruit your own personal army to assassinate a high-ranking Navy officer in the middle of a war, you WILL get what's coming to you."

James and Eliza went through the first grocery order, bit by bit, and ended up tossing most of it. Hackett was right; it wasn't worth the risk... even though pouring a choice bottle of tequila down the toilet went against _everything_ Vega had been raised to believe was right. Still, if _anything_ had been poisoned or drugged, it was probably the expensive alcohol.

Vega messaged Osorio to tell him what had happened, and what Hackett had advised. Princess Ave went on _higher_ alert. James was still dramatically mourning the lost tequila, but he offered Osorio the poor substitute of a beer, should he decide to join them for brunch. 

The Infiltrator laughed, faked a deep sigh, and said "I suppose, if that is all you have to offer me."

\--

They had another update from Anderson around 11:00. His techs had independently corroborated Osorio's findings that both dead men, Enrique and Josef, had taken payouts from Sinclair. They had also managed to finally prove that the men in custody had done likewise. Yanni Gardner and his brother Talbot had a legitimate contract to supply Sinclair Corp with a certain type of computer chip, but said business arrangement had ultimately been unequal to laundering several hundred thousand credits. Anderson expressed irritation at how long the financial post-morten had taken, but now that it was over (and they had proof) his satisfaction was evident.

Tom's report had detailed how two men had come up on either side of him after the Biotic Charge detonated and stabbed him repeatedly. His Barrier had mostly been consumed by the Charge, taking crucial seconds to build up again. He'd been damn lucky to be wearing a tactical vest under his T-shirt; most of the torso strikes had slid off of it and struck low, before his attackers thought to target his head. He'd been even _more_ lucky that his Barrier reformed in time to keep them from cutting his throat. Now they were in custody, and Vega wasn't any less relieved than Zavala himself.

 _Is that ALL of them, though? We really needed to know how many people tried to gut Tomas._ Someone _sent those groceries;_ someone _likely tried to poison us. Did those brothers have time to arrange the delivery before they were arrested?_

Tom had sworn there had been six attackers based on very shadowed memories (and because he killed two of them as soon as they surrounded him, yet still took so many wounds before he cleared his exit with Pull, and got the hell out of there). Vega was a bit annoyed that he and Shepard now had NO way to figure out _how_ many different blades had sliced Tom open; they'd been far more interested in healing everything and not having to take their undercover operative to a local hospital.

_But... if there are still two players out there... if there had been _six or more_ people on this crew, _AND_ they knew where Shepard was... **why the hell** don't they just hit the building? We've never caught them on a camera, yet _someone_ knew enough to order those groceries. Yeah, it _could_ have been some sort of cock up, but I don't believe it. Maybe Robert is right, and they never actually followed one of us back, but I'm not sure we were careful enough. We never expected them to figure out exactly who we were, so soon._

Part of James' brain insisted this all reeked of the Batarians having offered a _significant_ bonus if Eliza was taken _alive_. The rest of his brain was flinching back from the knowledge of what would happen to Shepard if the Hegemony managed it. If the Alliance didn't then demand her return, on penalty of war. A move they were unlikely to make.

James gritted his teeth. _I hate - HATE - politicians._

The worst part was that something still wasn't adding up, but since Zavala admitted he couldn't _swear_ six people attacked him, and the club had conveniently lost their video feed of the incident (if they'd even had vid to begin with) and their best hacker _still_ wasn't being given access to the extranet... Vega was incredibly frustrated.

While Tom and Robert ate eggs and cheesy biscuits and pancakes (courtesy of the Lieutenant Commander who'd again slept solidly and without breaking anything), Vega continued to scroll back and forth through messages that Anderson and Hackett had sent since Saturday night. There had been _so_ many alerts and briefings, he wasn't absolutely sure he'd read them all. That was when he saw it.

James paused before deleting José's message from Sunday afternoon. His jaw dropped. He read it more carefully. He would have _sworn_ that he'd seen it and known what it had said, and yet...

" _ **Hijo de la chingada!!**_ "

Osorio, Zavala, and Shepard all swiveled to stare at him, and he realized he'd sworn out loud. His mind was working a mile a minute, and he didn't love the conclusions it drew.

"Tom.... _look_ at this: _'La excavadora **explotó** '_, José said, NOT _'La excavadora estropeó'_." James ground his teeth in frustration. "It wasn't that the excavator _broke down_ yet again- José told me two days ago that it **exploded** , and I MISSED it."

_Fucking Lieutenant **Alenko** probably saved my damn life._

\--

 _I'm two days too late_ , Vega castigated himself. _Pinche Ramón!_

That afternoon, when Anderson's hackers pulled _all_ the available vid from the Hawks Ave work site, a dozen precious seconds of holo were found to have (separately) captured decent facial images of both Ramón and 'Gabriela'; one of the techs recognized the latter picture. Her real name was Teresa Gilliam, and she'd been dishonorably-discharged from the Marines several years ago. She'd been a Combat Engineer.

Explosives division.

_So it's a bomb. And until we fucking catch them, we just have to sift every nook and cranny of this building. Or, preferably, get Eliza out of here._

He'd immediately proposed that. She'd said no. She'd said a few Spanish swear words to illustrate how strongly she felt about all of them being left behind as sitting ducks while she was spirited off to safety.

In addition, when he'd failed to hear from Kaidan all morning, Tom had contacted the older biotic only to find out he'd finished his testimony in both trials in a single day and was being released to the Citadel.

_Here I've been... hard on the guy, really. I was actually sort of looking forward to telling him that... well... he probably saved my ass. And he skipped out._

James knew it wasn't that simple. Alenko almost certainly had orders. But **something** was wrong between Kaidan and Eliza, and it was _killing_ James not to know _what it was_. And NOW the guy was gone. 

Poof.

\--

Anderson called in that afternoon with his updates, and suggested they were looking into dispatching a sniffer animal to go over the building (though it was taking some time to locate one). He urged James to be vigilant, to have Osorio and Zavala continue to patrol the building, and mentioned that he was adding servicemen to various high points on the block until they detained Teresa Gilliam. Any neighboring roof with shuttle clearance was fair game, as far as the Alliance was concerned. Anderson made it clear this information was for Vega's ears only.

When James queried him about Kaidan Alenko's sudden departure, the Admiral was predisposed to shrug it off. Udina had requested Alenko, and - since he'd taken over the Ambassadorship - he got pretty much whatever he wanted. Anderson didn't _like_ it, but he was picking his battles. And given that Shepard was readjusting better than expected, they hadn't ended up needing another biotic, anyway.

James hit the button to disconnect the call, and rolled his eyes. 

_Right. Sure. Except the small earthquake we somehow managed to keep from you. Alenko had to leave. Fine. But what about the other one we tried to contact? We could STILL use **HER**._

Vega'd also found it a bit _premature_ that Anderson was, well, almost fucking _cheery_ about the trial. After only two days of testimony, it seemed a bit optimistic of the Admiral to have such faith that the Alliance would embargo the Hegemony any day now. Anderson had called an official declaration of support for Shepard 'the whole ball of wax.' Vega was unfamiliar with the idiom, but he understood that the Admirals' plan was to starve the conspirators of money. If the Alliance demanded the bounty be retracted, and backed it up with a sufficiently large threat, the attacks would stop. It was what Anderson and Hackett had been working towards for _weeks_.

\--

They all met up again for dinner. Osorio and Tom staggered in about ten minutes apart, omni-tools each still running search programs.

Zavala's day had descended into a mini-obsession; he'd been going through hours of vid looking for common areas in which the woman he'd known as Gabriela may have met up with Enrique and Josef... other than _La Penumbra_. Footage of them was shockingly scarce; the Alliance security techs had run a dozen different searches of varying specifications, on every available city video feed, simply to scrape together approximately fifteen minutes of footage with her in it. Tom had started his _own_ searches again, but with minimal success. He was _pissed_ he'd _never_ managed to catch a video of Teresa together with Ramón; _even_ at Hawks Ave, they had apparently _never_ spoken on camera.

Osorio was nearly tearing out his hair over having reached some sort of 'maximum bandwidth draw' on camera footage. He was trying to explain to Tom that he'd tapped into ground traffic cameras, but he didn't have any air traffic data. To James, it seemed like Tom was listening with _maybe_ one ear, as he watched his own search program unfold.

Shepard wandered out of their bedroom looking as frustrated as Robert, but without the same reason. At least, James _hoped_ she didn't have the same reason. He was starting to suspect otherwise, however, and prayed to God that if she _had_ hacked her extranet connection, she didn't get caught.

Osorio suddenly started tapping keys and swearing. He jumped out of his chair, said "Visitors", and ran out - Tom hard on his heels.

\--

James pulled the box containing his guns out from under the couch. He didn't bother to see if Shepard was gawking. Maybe she'd thought he actually _did_ own a huge crate of porn magazines that followed him from assignment to assignment? While that _had_ been the point of scrawling "FORNAXX" on the lid of the carton, he'd be sort of sad she didn't know him better than that by now. The box actually held two shotguns, three pistols, and a M-8 Avenger assault rifle. Plus a whole hell of a lot of thermal clips.

"Do I get a gun, too?" She had arched the eyebrow again.

Vega grinned. "Can you shoot one?"

Her death stare made him laugh.

"Help yourself. Just... maybe take something you can carry around without getting tired out? Like that little pistol, there?" He pointed with his foot while he added heat-sinks to the M-22.

"Oh, I get it. You're looking to _get shot_ on top of being _Thrown into two walls_ , kicked in the abdomen _twice_ , nearly having your throat slit, and being paralyzed for a quarter-hour." 

She picked up the M-8 automatic, grunted at how heavy it was, and carefully put it back in the case. She glared at him. "Not _ONE_ word." She grabbed the Predator he'd pointed out and loaded it with clips.

"Wouldn't dream of it," earned him another another death stare as he sprinted out of the apartment.

\--

Dr. T'Soni was surprised at the welcome, to put it mildly. When everyone had disarmed and Osorio managed to open the inner gate (which had, as intended, trapped her for an uncomfortable moment between them), she rallied, gliding forward to carefully embrace Shepard... who let her. James felt something inside himself that had been knotted up for almost three weeks _finally_ release.

\--

Vega didn't _really_ want to smack Tomas. The poor man was getting over a near-death experience, he'd _just_ healed a _dozen_ deep knife wounds, and was _still_ building back his blood supply.

But one _did not_ say "Hey, baby doll, *I* have a place you can stay tonight where you'll be safe and protected" to a valuable Asari asset. _Especially_ one who was a good friend of the Commander, who'd come here _directly_ from testifying at Shepard's trial, in order to help with potentially building-shattering panic attacks.

All the bullshit flirting _did_ make him stop and think. As he watched Zavala actively put the moves on an Asari whose biotic powers HAD to be considerable, he realized Tom was (comparatively) still skittish (and mostly respectful) around Shepard.

He felt grateful that Liara had simply rolled her eyes at Tom and removed herself - and Eliza - to 3-B. It seemed Liara T'Soni had already known Kaidan wasn't coming back.

 _Huh. Did she duck him?_

\--

James stopped waiting up for Shepard around 23:00. He just couldn't keep his eyes open. Zavala, having slept most of the day, and declaring himself 'all healed up', had gone back to doing the late patrol, though far closer to home and far more carefully: wearing _full_ tactical night gear.

Vega kept his omni-tool next to his pillow, though, in case _someone_ needed him during the night.

And he really did start to think that... maybe Eliza wasn't coming back downstairs.

\--

This was why when he woke to her body hitting the mattress, he was confused enough to shift and grab the pistol he'd stashed. He didn't remain armed long, however, once he smelled her, felt the strange buzz of her energy. He slid the gun back under the bed.

"Hey. Sorry."

She grunted and curled up next to him, but said nothing.

"How... did it go?"

She snorted loudly. "I thought her mucking around to sort the Prothean cipher was uncomfortable. This was _much_ worse. It was awful, awkward, and now I know more about the way my mind and powers work than I _ever_ wanted to know. Can we please go to sleep?"

James let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Sure. I just wanted to know if you were OK."

"I'm not. Apparently I don't know _how_ to be OK. But I may be 'put back together' enough not to blow up the building before the Batarians get a crack at it."

Vega mulled this over for a minute, and then snorted. "That's a bright side, I guess." He paused, bit his lip. "So there's nothing I can do to help?"

Shepard tensed almost imperceptibly; if he hadn't felt her arm move, he might not have even noticed her anger until she turned to face him. In the faint moonlight coming in through the windows, her eyes were fury-dark, her mouth twisted in wry acknowledgement of what he'd said. "Let me get this straight: your utility includes comforting me during night terrors, protection from a faceless multitude of assassins, and providing a physical distraction from mental stress in the form of a sparring partner." Her lips twisted up further, in a farce of a smile, "Why **not** just offer sex, too?"

"I thought I had." His face grew serious. "I thought I had, and it didn't work out because there are a lot of issues I don't know about, that you're not ready to share."

She stiffened with shock, eyes going wide. "You said no. I was here."

He arched a brow at her. " _Al contrario,_ I said 'not until you can talk to me about what happened.' Not until I _know_ you're not going to regret it five minutes after we're done."

Her mouth dropped open. " **No** one can make that promise, James: we _all_ do things we later regret."

"Perhaps. But not everyone goes into sex _planning_ to regret it."

Shepard's face contorted with anger again. "That's what you think this is? You don't get it, do you? Being back on Earth, in a grimy part of the city, being hunted by people who want to kill me? Hardscrabble hand-to-mouthing it? This is _exactly_ how I grew up. Only New York was _WAY worse_. I know why Anderson chose this, but when I told you this place is nice? Compared to where I grew up, this place is **heaven**. I regret _plenty_ of what I had to do when I was a kid, and nearly **everything** that was done TO me. It was survival, plain and simple. It all feels _the same._ Just because I don't want to talk about it doesn't mean-" she stopped dead, staring at him.

"Doesn't mean..." he prompted.

She closed her eyes, drew in another deep breath, and turned away from him. "Nothing."

Again it took James a very long time to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i discovered, while writing this chapter, that i still sort of despise writing mysteries. however, that *maybe* - if i forced myself to fight my way through a few more of them - i could eventually get better at it. we're not completely out of the woods yet, but feel free to post your guess as to how the entire thing unraveled so quickly. i'm curious.
> 
> you can all rest assured i've fallen sufficiently in love with my own creations that they will survive this installment, even though they weren't supposed to.
> 
> probably.
> 
> at the end, you're finally starting to see a hint into Eliza Shepard's true personality, better known as "Love and aid everyone you can, but take no shit."
> 
> new Spanish (and one repeat):  
> Ni modo ~ Oh well  
> Espero que haya disfrutado. ~ Hope you enjoyed the show  
> maldito hijo de puta de mierda ~ Fucking evil whore piece of shit (probably the worst swear yet)  
> Hijo de la chingada!! ~ Son of a BITCH!!


	18. The Retrofit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm Evil, story at 23:00.
> 
> seriously, it's plot. we're plotting. we're gettin' to the end of the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is your backstory trigger warning. this section is James' POV, so the backstory comes out in dialogue, and it's detail-light (with no inner monologue) but, well, it's in this Chapter. this is (unfortunately) a story old as time. if you've been abused by a family member, you might want to skim the latter half of this Shepard's backstory.

Wednesday morning was the first time since he and Shepard had arrived at Princess Ave that she beat him to the bathroom (the shower stall was wet), was dressed before he was (her pile of clothes had been rifled through) and had left the apartment before he had. It was incredibly disconcerting, and (while he would never have admitted it to anyone) James checked under the bed, behind the folding screen, in the closet, the kitchen, and the bathroom before concluding that she'd... just... _left_.

_Now... where the **hell** did she go, and am I about to get a very angry holo from someone at Headquarters about it?_

He checked his desk. Ten to one she'd left him a note, telling him where she'd gone. 

_OK. Not going to worry about this yet. It's only 06:15. She's almost certainly in the building. Even if she went out, she has her amp. She knows about my weapons locker. The entire goal of Liara working with her was to pull her out of her funk. Can't have it both ways, Vega._

James finished checking the desk and went back into the kitchen. Nothing on the counters. Nor the refrigerator. He scowled.

_But she could have left a **pinche note.**_

He had promised to meet Cortez on the shuttle pad at 07:00; they were flying over to Alliance dry-dock for their second consultation on board the _Normandy_. There was no way Shepard could have _known_ that, right?

_Unless she 'borrowed' my omni-tool last night and went through my messages, which I already know she's perfectly capable of doing._

_One_ morning waking up with her gone and he was already getting paranoid. _This_ boded well.

\--

Vega made breakfast for himself - were there less eggs? he wasn't sure - and then, just before 06:30, he sent a message to Osorio; he also CC-d Zavala and Dr. T'Soni.

 **VEGA: Shepard not in apartment. Is she with one of you? Supposed to be catching shuttle to Headquarters this morning. As previously discussed, transferring immediate custody of Lt. Cmdr. Elizabeth Shepard to Sgt. Robert Osorio, effective 06:30.**

He waited.

After a minute, his omni-tool flooded with near-simultaneous messages.

**_TOM: You lost Shepard? She fled your bed even with all the tricks from the book you shared with me? Did you even READ it?_ **

James gritted his teeth and reminded himself - _again_ \- that the younger biotic had almost died a few days ago.

The second one was more reassuring... and yet _not_ reassuring at all. 

**_OSO: The Commander is with me. We are certainly not hacking the late night feeds of cameras south of Hawks Ave together. She has not been a large help. Did I remember to tell you my English is not very good?_ **

James coughed out a laugh and then sobered. _Mierda, Eliza. Be CAREFUL._

The third message inexplicably demanded: **_***: Decirle EDI que dije hola._**

It wasn't tagged. He felt a chill. Either Liara T'Soni had decided to respond to his message from a completely anonymous account, or someone else - _SHEPARD_ , his mind insisted - had intercepted his message and sent something completely incomprehensible in reply.

 _Why do I feel like I've utterly lost control of the situation?_

\--

He was almost at the shuttle pad when Dr. T'Soni's reply popped up (unfortunately reinforcing his belief as to who'd sent the last message). He read it, frowning with concern.

 _She's already at Headquarters, and about to go into session? I suppose I didn't realize she would have so much testimony to give._ James shook his head. _And Alenko so little._

The shuttle was already there; several neighborhood kids were checking it out from the shade of a building, and James headed toward them. He only got close enough to scatter them, the tallest one shouting _"No hicimos **nada** , hombre!"_ as he fled.

_Am I back to 'scary face'? If I am, I suppose Esteban will let me know in his own, sweet way._

He'd barely put a foot on the pad when the door swung up, and Cortez was asking " _What_ did you say to those kids?"

Vega sighed. It was going to be _that_ sort of trip. " _Nada_ , Esteban. I said _exactly nothing_ to those kids. They just knew danger when they saw it."

_You should too... by now. Do we REALLY have to do this?_

Cortez gave him the level stare. "This is Shepard, right? This has to be Shepard."

_Yeah, I guess we do._

"Get in the _pinche_ pilot's seat."

\--

"You know, your language has fallen into the 'truly abysmal' range again. Are you swearing at the _Commander_ this much?"

It was a few hours later. James had worked his way through the current weapons complement of the SR-2, carrying the rest of the guns from the second level down to the shuttle bay by himself. And, yeah, he'd been swearing a lot.

"It doesn't count if she doesn't understand it." _Or so I tell myself. Though it IS true she understands more of it every day..._

"James, the lack of military respect counts a great deal."

 _Esteban... no tienes ni idea, carnal._

"So tell me."

James raised his head from the weapons bench, where he'd been repairing and inventorying shotguns. "What?"

Cortez was standing at the load-out station, fiddling with the settings that helped identify and standardize various firearm modifications. "You said I had no idea - elaborate."

_I **did**? Dios, where did my fucking filter go?_

"When did you start to read minds, Esteban?"

"About the same time you started talking to yourself while you work... which is probably your entire damn life. Now, explain - I have no idea about _what?"_

Vega suddenly felt trapped. He never lied to Cortez, _never_. At least... not since Fehl Prime, when he'd actually _had_ to lie, once or twice. Since they'd been off deployment, _never_ again. Esteban knew what had happened with Treeya. He knew all about the choices James had had to make. And the subsequent drinking on Omega.

_He already knows about my - what are we calling it now? my 'crush'? - on Eliza Shepard..._

But he could _not_ tell Steve he'd watched said Commander have multiple orgasms on a rooftop in the slums a week ago. _Let alone the fact that some days all I can think about is getting her back up to that roof and finishing what we started..._

 _None of that_ would go over well. And if James had thought the lecture on the shuttle ride _in_ had been bad... 

He struggled to choose something true to say that didn't make him seem like an utter dog. He'd consider the implications of having to speak so carefully _later_. 

"It isn't that I don't respect her. She's just... I suppose I expected her to be more aloof, you know? Less..."

"...of a real person?" Cortez seemed to be concentrating on calibrating the board, but apparently still had the wherewithal to jab James where it hurt.

Vega gave up all pretense at counting guns. " **No.**." He paused and reconsidered. "Well... _yes_ , but not the way you mean. She's _extraordinary_. But... you can't hold it against her, you know? I mean... " He paused again, flustered. "I suppose I didn't expect to actually _like_ her as much as I do."

_Uuugh. Perhaps too close to the whole truth._

Esteban finally looked up from his station. Black eyebrows lifted over intense blue eyes. Vega knew there were times that those eyes saw _way_ more than people were comfortable sharing, and he almost groaned out loud as he turned back to the bench, waiting for the pilot to grill him. But, for some reason, Cortez let it pass.

"Does it look like she'll be acquitted? Is she hopeful? I mean... she did actually save most of the human colonies the fate of Ferris Fields."

Vega winced. _Careful. You don't have any alcohol with you now, or the time to apply it._

"We only get sporadic updates on the trial. We're actually a _lot_ more concerned right now with keeping her _alive_."

Esteban pursed his lips. "Batarians?"

James nodded. "Or, rather, the human scum they managed to purchase a few weeks ago. It's being sorted."

Cortez shook his head slowly. He eyed the board, checked his chron, and sighed. "I'd better get you back then, Mr. Vega. We weren't going to finish in one day, anyhow." He paused, glanced around, and let slip a small smile. "Honestly, we got a lot done. If this ship had to fly out of here tomorrow, they'd actually have weapons, two operational shuttles, armor modifications, and a nearly-functional weapons modification station." He hit a button on the control panel. "EDI, scan the changes I made for errors, check our progress off the list, and message the Retrofit group, if you please."

"Certainly, Lieutenant Cortez. It would be my pleasure. Processing..." the computer responded in a lush, rounded, alto. James' body jerked in surprise, and Cortez - who'd apparently been watching for Vega's reaction - began chuckling.

"The Normandy has a fully-voiced and integrated VI system. E-D-I... stands for 'Enhanced Defense Intelligence', I think. The previous crew pronounced it "Edie."

"They... named it?"

"Well, I gather it was just a targeting VI, _originally_ , but Shepard and her crew hacked the Cerberus controls and expanded the program to the rest of the ship. Frankly, it's amazing tech."

James let his eyes flutter shut. _Decirle EDI que dije hola. Tell... EDI... I said hello._

"You- Um, OK." James swallowed his absolute certainty that Shepard was (again) about to drag him into something that he absolutely _should not_ know, and _could never_ share.

\--

Vega took a roundabout way back from the school after Cortez dropped him off, casually scoping out the neighborhood, nodding to people he knew, and trying to figure out if anything felt out of place.

It was possible he was also extending his Shepard-free time (though he'd never admit it). He'd admit, however, that he had _no_ idea what to say to her.

The man-trap did its thing for the required amount of time, and before the second gate lowered, Vega could have _sworn_ he heard her voice, elevated in volume, from behind the door to the manager's apartment, saying "You know... you _could_ just leave him _in_ there."

_Really? REALLY? You hacked your extranet connection, and likely your messaging platform, accessed a completely anonymous server, and somehow knew where I was going to be this morning. You **really** want to do this?_

By the time the second gate slid open, the door to 1-B had done likewise, and Shepard was leaning into the hallway. "Did you eat with Cortez? We have diner food. And _intel_."

James clenched his jaw and motioned to the stairwell. He started climbing, yelling out " **We'll** be right back, Robert! Just have to run upstairs for a minute!"

\--

The panel had barely slid closed on 2-B when Vega rounded on her, trying to remain semi-calm. "Did Osorio tell you where I was headed this morning, or did you take my omni-tool when I was asleep and read my messages?"

Her face abruptly closed down. "You mentioned it to me last night, didn't you?"

 _Lie._ He'd very carefully **not** told her that he was going to be on board the SR-2 this morning, due in no small part to how she'd reacted the last time.

"I didn't, actually. But nice try." James stared at her. " **Which. Was. It?"**

Shepard sighed. "Neither. Osorio _also_ mentioned last night that you would be gone this morning, so I knew you'd already told him. He didn't actually share _where_ you were going, but I might have... seen it in a message on his omni-tool, while he was, uh, indisposed."

James grabbed his crewcut. "Did **you** 'indispose' him?"

Eliza managed to look shocked. " _Me? **No!**_ He went to the bathroom, after... well... letting me borrow his omni-tool to check something I was trying to do on mine."

James sat down on the couch abruptly. He suddenly remembered Zavala - less than a week and three meters away from his current predicament - picking himself up the floor muttering "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit."

_I **fucking** know the feeling._

"You hacked the omni-tool of the person I left to guard you, read our correspondence, knew where I would be this morning, sent _DIOS ONLY KNOWS_ how many messages to people from an _utterly anonymous_ account that Headquarters somehow **still** hasn't found, and you have the gall to look surprised that I'd wonder if you used Reave on Robert?"

Her mouth set mulishly. "I'd never do that. I'm surprised you think so little of me."

James, startled, _laughed_ in her face: at the absurd little-girl pout, the ridiculous language, the entire picture she represented.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, One of Earth's Strongest Biotics Plays Victim, Story at 23:00._

_"Oh no you don't._ You are the _same_ woman who _paralyzed_ me without a word of warning, the same one who faked me out and kicked me into a wall, then faked me out _again_ and nearly sent my _huevos_ into my intestines. I have **no** illusions as to whether or not you'll do whatever you feel you need to do. My question is... does **Osorio**?"

The Commander sobered. "I... only borrowed his omni-tool for twenty minutes or so, and I was only alone with it for... I dunno... ninety seconds? It's not _my_ fault his password was so insanely easy to crack."

James full-body bent over on the sofa, clasping his hands over his head.

_Que Dios me ayude..._

\--

Osorio and Zavala had only been waiting for Vega to return to unveil their plan to remove the fire escape. Osorio had discovered, in one of his sweeps, that Eliza had been absolutely correct in surmising there was an as-yet undiscovered access to the roof; the fire escape ended at the third floor, but around the other side of the building there were small rungs embedded in the old brick. It wasn't an _actual_ ladder, and if you didn't already know it was there, it wasn't visible from the roof, but since those rings couldn't be removed (and the access door, while alarmed, remained hackable) the fire escape was coming down today.

Vega remembered trying to explain to Anderson that, if he was going to take on the guardianship of the galaxy's most wanted war criminal, he needed sixty thousand credits for a special purchase. _That_ hadn't been an easy sell, but it had clearly ended up being worth the cost. Right now he wished he had _five more_ of the tungsten-alloy DNA-scanning locks: one for for each of the other three apartments, and one for the roof and basement access points. He would have felt a little better knowing that even if Gilliam made it onto the roof, there was no way she was getting into the building; even if she somehow tricked her way into the building, no way she could get into any of the apartments.

_If wishes were fishes... We'll do the best with what we have._

Vega had cleared the removal of the fire escape with Anderson; if there actually WAS a fire, the fact that they wouldn't have an upper exit was now known, and support could be there for a rescue or recovery.

With the help of a blow torch (Vega assumed it was another casualty from Hawks Ave), rope, a pipe cutter, and a sledge, the fire escape was lowered to the alley, in pieces, in just under two hours.

It seemed to Vega that Tom had taken unseemly glee in handing him the sledge hammer, and purring "We saved this job _just_ for you." Were the others that loathe to get sweaty? 

_Or do I just look like I need to hit stuff?_

\--

They observed _siesta_ , sipping beer and eating sandwiches. Robert kept a fairly constant eye on his live video feeds, letting Tom and Eliza show him what they'd dug up on the duo they'd dubbed 'The Assassin Engineers.' Teresa and Ramón still hadn't turned up together, as far as they'd been able to prove, but Zavala was sure that just meant they were being very, very careful.

Tom _absolutely_ thought James was correct in assuming the tech from their work site was the missing link, even though he couldn't figure out how they'd been outed either. He had also convinced Shepard that coming up empty on video simply meant they needed to spend more time looking at the money angle. So that was the plan for the afternoon.

Somewhere in this damn city, the remaining members of the conspiracy (at least, if they'd been paid enough to persist, and it wasn't clear yet if that was even the case) had already bought - or would be trying to buy - more explosive materials. Osorio was of the strong opinion the chances of this crew having smuggled several hundred kilos of explosives through planetary customs was _negligible_ , and that - given her watch-list status - Gilliam's dishonorable discharge meant she would find it nearly impossible to purchase conventional explosives. He therefore narrowed his search quite quickly to household and agricultural options.

Even with a narrower focus, it was slower to follow the money trail (as Anderson's techs had found out) but he hoped it might be more difficult for the assassins to hide large credit transfers than it had been for them to duck fixed cameras.

\--

They all came up for air around 05:00, when Osorio raised an alert... and then immediately lowered it again, because Liara T'Soni was trapped in the lobby.

Liara was smiling as she walked into 2-B; she advised Shepard that she had finished her testimony, and thought that she had managed to please Hackett in the process. James, listening from the couch, speculatively watched the two of them embrace while attempting to keep his thoughts as pure as possible.

_Do. **not**. think. about. that._

But it was hard. Everything about this was hard. How was he supposed to make it through another night of Eliza being pissed at him for not having sex with her... when _all he wanted to do_ was have sex with her?

"Are you all right? Did they ask about Benezia?" Eliza was playing with her omni-tool, but picked up her head to make eye contact with T'Soni as she spoke.

"Yesterday," Liara affirmed. "I'd expected it. It wasn't as unpleasant as I'd feared. It led to an excellent discussion on indoctrination. I think this may be the first time the Committee is taking that subject seriously despite the _years_ of material they've been sent."

Eliza sighed, "The fact that they're woefully unprepared for the Reapers isn't news to me." She arched a brow. "What was today about, then, if matters on the SR-1 were cleared yesterday?"

James tried to ignore his reaction to the eyebrow, her tone... just being in the same room with her again, after she'd been gone with Tomas all afternoon, was making his brain go haywire. 

_I'm not going to make it through tonight. If she hits on me again, I'm a goner._

Liara was answering Shepard's question, and he'd missed the first part of her reply. "-history. If there is anything more to be found, I'll find it."

Eliza was gazing at the Asari with concern. "You contacted him first? This is about what Hackett wanted? Because of your past research, or... does he... _know_ about you?"

T'Soni shrugged. "I didn't explicitly tell him, but he may know. He has always seemed to me to be the sort of man who conceals the depth of his knowledge until he absolutely needs to expose it. As for whether or not our lead will pay off, I can't tell you; I don't have specifics yet. The first thing I'll be doing once we're sure you're... _better_ , is heading... well, _home_ , to continue the project of making my, uh... _office_ portable. Feron has agreed to remain behind. He's been a huge help in correlating data from various places, but he appears to have decided he no longer wishes to be... _out in the galaxy_ when the Reapers arrive. With Thessia resolving into such a disappointment, I don't have a similar option." Liara took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "It's just as well that Hackett and I may be of use to each other."

James had admitted days ago that he had no clue as to who or what Liara T'Soni actually was to Shepard; his best plan for enlightenment seemed to be staying quiet and hoping they continued to forget his existence. Unfortunately, Liara was too bright for that ploy to work indefinitely.

"And this one - he's been helpful? Treeya seemed to think he had... hidden depths."

James balked. He had forgotten the connection. _All that intel on Fehl Prime... Treeya was reporting to this woman._

"He's... adequate." Eliza chuckled when James flashed her an affronted glare. "At least he believes in the Reapers, so I haven't come off as being unhinged in more than one area at a time."

Liara tinkled out a bell-like laugh. Once upon a time, James suspected that laugh would have affected him like a drug. Now it... sort of irritated him.

"I can have depths," he mock-sulked. "You women seem to forget that men are more than sex objects."

Dr. T'Soni started laughing again, more heartily this time, but he couldn't fail to note that Shepard's laughter was tinged with something else.

_Message received? Let's hope Liara can shake the rest loose tonight, because something has to give._

\--

The women disappeared right after dinner again, and Vega nixed Zavala's prurient speculation with "One more word, Tom, and I will _absolutely_ record what you're saying and play it back to them."

He and Osorio were trying to narrow the list of local ammonium nitrate suppliers down to a smaller list of companies that had recently sold substantial quantities; enough fertilizer to make ANFO in a significant amount (such as would massively damage an old brick and concrete building). Robert had told him a half hour ago, however, that he was of the mind that they'd probably purchased the stuff in bulk somewhere far outside the city and hauled it in by transport, thus defeating the Alliance searches.

"It is the only thing that makes sense. A small bomb - perhaps a kilogram of explosive material and a detonator, like the one that sabotaged the Hawks Ave excavator far better than you did - could have been assembled from ingredients purchased inside Vancouver city limits. But a large one, such as they would desire now, because Shepard does not leave the relative safety of this building? I did not uncover a purchase of those quantities of fertilizer in Vancouver for _months_."

James gritted his teeth. "So **how** do we _find_ them, Osorio? We've tried visually tracking them, only to realize they're _ghosts_ \- probably because Gilliam is just as good a hacker as you and Shepard. We've tried following the money, only to discover they've been intelligent enough to stay outside the city search parameters with their suspicious purchases. What _now_?"

Robert clapped a hand on Vega's shoulder. " _Paz, mi amigo_. I have extended my searches to Surrey and Abbotsford. Despite restrictions, the agricultural areas there still sell massive quantities of nitrates. The local governments have not yet taken up water-quality legislation. I believe this is likely where we will locate their purchase."

"Robert, this is taking just short of **forever** ," James groused, tugging on his hair again. " **HOW** have they not picked this woman _up_ yet?"

Osorio looked at James with sympathy, and patted his shoulder once more, before gathering his datapads. "James, it has been just twenty-nine hours since you understood José's message and alerted Alliance technicians. They have _already_ confirmed your guesses, identified Teresa Gilliam, and eliminated MANY possibilities as to where she may be hiding." Robert stopped on his way to the door, turned back, and added "We have done well to secure the building, and we have constant surveillance, not only with my cameras, but I suspect with Alliance sharpshooters as well."

Vega looked at the Sergent pointedly, and Osorio chuckled. "I am much older than you; this is not - how do they say? - my first rodeo." He grinned. "She will still have to approach the building to attack in _any_ way, and we will see her. Have faith."

\--

This time, Vega didn't wait around to see if his prisoner was coming home. He left 2-B at 22:00, climbed the stairs, and knocked on the door of 3-B. He'd intended to knock on the door with a sharp air of command, to make his inquiry a _demand_ for an explanation as to how long Shepard would be gone. Instead, his fist struck the metal panel tentatively, apprehensively, and he winced.

_Way to sound as if you actually want one of them to answer, Vega._

The panel slid open almost immediately, and Eliza stood there, blocking the doorway. "Ye-es?"

James tried not to let his surprise show. "I figured I'd stop and check on you both before I tried to go to bed and either worried about you all night when you didn't come back, or drew a weapon on you again when you did."

Liara, curled up on the couch, trilled her flute-like laugh again. "We're done, James. I told her she's free to go whenever she wants."

Shepard half-turned. "I believe I was _always_ free to go. But glad you agree I'm no longer a danger to Vancouver at large."

T'Soni grinned "I wouldn't go that far. But I think you have control of your powers again." She sobered. "I doubt the nightmares are over - Goddess knows *I* still have them, and I haven't seen _half_ of the horrors you have - but I'm certain your biotics have been decoupled from them."

Eliza sighed. When she swiveled to face him, Vega could see how tired she was. "The roof is no longer off-limits then, right?" When he nodded, she added, "Let's go."

James couldn't stop himself from straightening in shock. "You look exhausted. Why go up there?"

"To talk. I'd like to get this over with. And... you deserve to hear it."

\--

Liara told them not to worry about notifying her when they came back through, as long as everything got locked back up. She did hug Eliza gently as James held the roof access door open, and he thought he heard her whisper "Good luck, Shepard."

The sky was a midnight-blue sheet studded with a few bright white diamonds despite significant light pollution from the streets below. James found himself taking one deep breath after another and marveling how much cooler it was, how amazing the breeze felt. They hadn't been up here in days, but now that the metal stairways had been cut from the side of the building, and the _only_ access was through Liara's apartment, he was looking forward to using it again. It felt calm... and unexpectedly safe.

Eliza let out a long breath and slid into one of the covered chaises. She simply sat there, gazing up into the sky for half a minute, before saying "I really don't know where to start."

James had slowly lowered himself into the other lounge chair. He, too, simply observed the night for a few seconds before he replied "Can I... ask you something?"

He waited while she looked over at him, seeming to assess his motivation. Then she nodded.

He took a deep breath. "That second sparring match, last week..." Vega paused. "You... you had a flashback. I've seen them before. You were suddenly in the past, not with... me." He paused again, trying to keep his own anxiety from unduly influencing any answer she might give. "It's been a concern of mine, ever since you had that first panic attack in the Null Room... that it could have been..." James let out an explosive breath. "Hell, Eliza, is it me? Was the guy just... big?"

Shepard closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.

"No. He wasn't even as big as his brother. He was just..." She sighed, and bit her lip.

Vega waited patiently, and when she didn't say anything more, he suggested, "Maybe... start at the beginning?"

Shepard flinched, but kept her eyes firmly shut. "You have to understand. I... don't have parents. I don't remember my mother dying; just one day... she... wasn't around any more. There were a few foster homes, but... um, if a biotic... 'acts out', the foster homes dry up quickly." She swallowed. "I estimate I was on the street at eleven or twelve. I honestly don't know for certain. I don't even know how old I actually am."

Vega forced himself to nod, to keep the shock, anger, and pain off his face. It was a struggle.

"I made my way south, and eventually into the City... it was _way_ easier to scam enough money to eat down there. Once the homes no longer want you, you're better off in obscurity anyway." She snorted. "Ask Tom. I bet he understands."

"Kane caught me trying to, well, it doesn't matter what I was trying to do, but he recognized a fellow felon-in-the-making. Also... I think I reminded him of his mother; I saw a picture once, and I sort of look like she did when she was young: the strawberry-blond hair and green eyes anyway." Shepard sighed. "It was... actually OK, for awhile. I learned _so much_ about computers; I'd never had unrestricted access to tech before, especially after I-"

Eliza stopped, cleared her throat, and said "Well, that's another story."

_Now I desperately want to know what she did, at _ELEVEN_ , to get kicked out of her last foster home. Madre de Dios._

"I... was, um, thirteen or so? when I started to figure out... I don't know... that boys were interesting?" She snorted, then swallowed. James realized she was desperately trying to make this funny... but there wasn't going to be a way to make it funny, and he reached out, cautiously took her hand, and squeezed it. She squeezed back.

"I'd been with the Reds almost two years. I formed... I guess you'd call it a crush... on this boy in the gang. I followed him around, acted as his lookout on jobs. Kane thought... I guess he thought it was cute."

James watched her struggle, and tried to conceal the fact that he _hated_ this boy. Hated Kane, whoever he was. Hated anyone who'd ever hurt her.

"I didn't understand that Kane's brother, Fintan, thought... I mean, he was older, like - I thought he was Kane's age, but he was actually a decade younger, I guess. But to _me_ , he was like a second father."

She swallowed hard... and James finally got it. He felt sick.

"He'd always been... sort of jealous, but I thought it was just that Kane gave me a lot of attention, and since Finn was older, Kane gave him less. But... apparently... it was also, um, other stuff, because when I started to like this boy, he got-"

James slowly and carefully stood up, moved his chaise closer to hers, and reached out an arm. She leaned close enough to allow him to curl it around her. "He was jealous of you _and_ the fact that you liked someone else."

Eliza nodded, and suddenly turned toward him, clinging to him. Every molecule in his body that wasn't dedicated to clutching her until she _knew_ she was safe, _desperately_ wanted to fly a shuttle to NYC and beat the crap out of 'Finn.'

"He- I trusted him, you know? And Kane trusted him. He'd been teaching both of us to use our powers, but Finn was a lot stronger than I was. I mean, he was older, he had an amp, and- he... um... he was good at... at _taking_ things from people. I mean - don't get me wrong - the entire gang stole. I... haven't always been a good person, James." Eliza paused, sniffling. 

James glanced over and realized her eyes were wet. _Mierda._ He tightened his arm slightly.

"But Finn... **enjoyed it**. And he didn't just steal from the corporations, like we tried to do... he'd rough up people on the street, he'd start... gang fights. Kane tried to stop him, but now I realize it was getting worse and worse... and I think Kane knew it."

James nodded into her hair, waiting.

"One day Finn took the kid I sort of liked out on a job with him, and then came back alone. Kane questioned him about it, and he told Kane that the kid was an idiot, that he'd gotten caught." Her body tensed, and he braced for what he knew was coming. "It was a lie, of course, and Kane finally found that out, but when he threatened to throw Finn out of the apartment, the bastard was all apologies and promises and swore that it was an accident."

She paused and sighed "I often wonder what happened to that kid. The guy who hit me up for help on the Citadel a few years ago didn't know."

"So he got out?"

"Sort of. The cops beat him and kept him for a couple weeks, but he agreed to testify against Fintan, and that's all the company wanted... to take down the Reds. Of course, Kane had an alibi, and managed to scrounge one up for Fintan, too. It was... a bad time."

James mused. "So he tried to get your crush removed, and then effectively turned him into a traitor. _Pinche Diablo_."

Shepard shuddered. "That's a great word for him."

James hugged her close. "Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head. "No, there isn't much more. I turned fourteen about a month later, and there was a different boy: George. He was sneaky, though, and I think he knew Fintan better than Kane and I put together. He was willing to stand up to Finn... but only on his terms. I think he realized that if he fought him openly, he'd end up dead."

James shuddered. _And here I thought **my** upbringing was rough after my father took off._

"I liked George, and started doing jobs with him, but George was very careful to try to stay on Finn's good side. And he made sure he wasn't around the day Finn finally lost it and went after me."

James clenched his jaw and then breathed through the rage, trying not to add his own anger to something that was already insanely difficult.

"He... used Stasis on me... the way I did with you." She turned her head, and he saw more tears in her eyes. "I'm s-sorry about that. You know that, r-right?"

James blinked. _JESUS, now **I'm** about to fucking cry._

"Eliza, all *I* know is that I was being an absolute brat the day we moved in; I was hot and worried and miserable and _dirty_ and _done_ with the cleaning and all the _sweating_... I absolutely coerced you into cutting my hair. And, afterward? I was so pathetically grateful you'd done it, I would have kissed your feet even if I'd been stuck in Stasis three _times_ as long."

She sniffled and stared at him as if she wasn't quite sure to believe him. He kissed her forehead. "I'm telling the truth; I didn't care. It's not the same situation _at ALL_."

She laid her head back down on his shoulder, and shuddered. "I hate not being able to move. **HATE** it. But... I was OK... all the way through Basic. Through N7. I just... that day... it wasn't just the Stasis. I think- there was a point where... maybe I could have... _flattered_ him into letting me go. I don't know. The one counselor I ended up going to told me not not blame myself, but-" She sighed. "I don't know that he intended to do what he did. Still... I fought him."

James ground his teeth together. _Calm. Calm. Calm._

"Cabrona, it doesn't matter what he _intended_. If he _did_ it, that's the point where I cease caring _why_ he did it."

"I think the Stasis wore off faster then he'd intended. That's when I lunged away from him. He caught me, tried to pin me down. I saw it coming, and I fell to the side and pretended he'd snapped my wrist."

James sucked in a breath. _She already knew how to do that, at fourteen. **And had NEEDED** to know it, which-_ James couldn't even begin to encompass the width and breadth of his anger.

"The thing is... Kane never told me that some people... wouldn't care. I thought... you know, that he'd _care_. But - I mean, maybe I'm wrong - but it actually just seemed to piss him off _more_ , you know? Like 'how could you be so stupid as to fall badly and get hurt?' And that's... well... when it happened."

James knew there was a piece missing, and couldn't figure out how to get her to explain without making it sound like it was her fault, or that she didn't fight hard enough. And he _hated_ every second of this, and just wanted to KILL this man he didn't even know, so maybe it would be better to let it go?

_Puta madre!_

James took a deep breath and slowly said. "Eliza... you were kickass, even then. Not just tricks, but biotics. You said before that he nearly... killed you. How...?"

Eliza full-body flinched, and James felt like a fucking **ASSHOLE.**

"He used Reave, and drained me."

And there it was.

James cautiously tightened his arm, cuddling her as close to his side as he could get with the armrests between them. _"Maldito hijo de puta de mierda_ ", he muttered. "What... happened to him?"

_Si hay un Dios, está muerto._

"He's dead. Kane killed him, afterwards."

"Saves me the trouble."

Eliza took a deep breath, turning in the chair to face him. "You don't remind me of Finn, James. You remind me of Kane. He was the fighter. And I think... he loved me."

Vega felt his chest contract. Something in his brain was screaming _"WHAT?"_ and something in his gut was quietly saying _"Yeah, I do."_ The dichotomy was too strong, too sudden, and he grasped for something, anything, else to ask.

"Alenko... _also_ knows how to Reave, right? That's what Tom thought he was trying to do when you... hit him with a warp field."

_Jesus. Great time to bring **that** up..._

"Well, yeah." She sighed. " I was the one who first started teaching it to him, as far as I know. But he was never very good at it." 

\--

The chairs turned out to be crap for making out in, but Vega thought... maybe it was a good thing. He still didn't understand exactly how they'd started kissing, but he suspected it was when his lips grazed her neck and she shivered. That had pretty much been it. That was when he'd pretty much attacked her. It wasn't a good look, and yet - she hadn't pulled away. In fact _she_ was pretty much trying to climb over the armrests between them, into his chaise. James wondered whether or not the metal lounger would hold them both.

It did.

She was straddling his lap, barely making room for her knees on either side of his hips, bending over and kissing him, teeth nipping his lower lip, tongue darting into his mouth, and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his hands around her ass and pulling her closer, and he was so fucking hard...

"Eliza-" he gasped out. "Look, are you _absolutely_ sure you want to do this now? We fucking have time. We have all the time in the damn world." His body was a silent scream in his mind - _SHUT THE HELL UP_ \- but he couldn't not check in.

She sat back on her heels and yanked her top off over her head. The moon hadn't risen far enough to help, but the reflected streetlights did a decent job of outlining her long neck, her muscular shoulders, and the fact that she absolutely did not have a bra on.

James groaned loudly and forgot his own name. The only thought he managed to keep a tenuous hold on was that if she wanted to stop, she'd fucking let him know. 

Then he clenched his abdominal muscles, sitting up enough to close his lips and teeth on her right breast.

\--

Afterward, James could not have sworn what distracted him from the restless movements of the woman in his lap, but he thought it was the whirring noise. And the fact that even though this - **THIS** \- was the thing he'd been wanting... waiting for... _praying for_... he was still hyper-alert with regard to her safety.

He flung them both out of out the chaise mere _seconds_ before it was mangled beyond recognition by large-ammo munitions fire from a combat drone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more Chapters to go. i told a couple people in comments, but here's my official announcement that i already have the bridging stories sort of half-plotted in my mind. i also have pieces of the next full-length fic written. i admit - whether or not i take a break between fics will be HEAVILY-dependent on the reaction to this one. if i get a lot of comments of "OMG PLEASE KEEP GOING", i might do that. if i don't, i may spend time revising this fic instead. i may wander off to Dragon Age or Highlander or some other fic field of my choice.
> 
> what can i say? i can be fickle. :D
> 
> Spanish:  
> Decirle EDI que dije hola ~ Tell EDI I said 'hello'  
> No hicimos nada, hombre! ~ We didn't do nothing, man!  
> no tienes ni idea, carnal ~ you have no idea, my brother  
> Que Dios me ayude ~ God help me  
> Paz, mi amigo ~ Peace, my friend  
> Si hay un Dios, está muerto ~ If there's a God, he's dead


	19. The Butterfly Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well... here it is. hope you cry reading it as much as i did writing it! 
> 
> J/K.
> 
> or am i?

James rolled twice more - Eliza still cradled in his arms - until they were behind one of the planter boxes. He disentangled himself, went flat to the ground, and _reached_ back out to snag her shirt. She swore loudly, and managed to yank him back into cover as the advancing combat drone fired a shock attack in their direction. The wood of the planter sizzled and began to smoke.

"Here!" he hissed, handing her shirt to her.

She looked at him as if he were batshit crazy, and shook the shirt in his face. "You risked your neck for _this_?" she hissed back. She peeked up over the edge of the box, and saw another arcing electrical charge headed their way. They both ducked. "Where the _fuck_ is the engineer controlling that thing?"

"Gotta be on one of the surrounding roofs," James replied. "You're not supposed to know this, but the Alliance staged support shuttles and snipers. That rocket-fire was pretty damn loud, so I expect they'll be taking their shot any time now. Stay _DOWN_." He looked around the roof, wondering if they could reach the access door. "I **knew** I should have armed myself before asking you to have sex with me."

Shepard glared at him. "I'd Overload the damn thing, but I didn't bring my omni-tool **to therapy**. I am _never_ going **anywhere** without my damn omni-tool _ever again._ "

Vega swore as the drone's indicator lights flashed red, and it made the whirring noise of loading another missile. He threw his arms around Eliza and rolled again, back _away_ from the stairwell, but behind the next planter. The waist-high wooden box they _had_ been crouched behind exploded into pieces.

James started to swear in Spanish. "Put up a damn Barrier! It's the only way we can get to the door now."

Shepard, half-naked, scratched, bruised, and _pissed_ , growled back at him. " _That_ would be a **BIT** difficult as my Barrier is _HORRIBLE_!"

James watched the drone re-orient on them as she was yelling, and then what she'd said penetrated his adrenaline-fogged brain." _What_ the _hell_?!?

Shepard clenched her jaw and muttered "Fuck it." A bright cerulean mist began to enclose her skin, and she stood up. The drone's LEDs blinked once as it prepared to fire, and she blasted it with blue light. It stopped dead, hanging in the air, and Shepard clapped both of her hands to her head. Vega heard her whimpering "Ow. Owowow."

He glanced around the roof, saw nothing, and got to his feet next to her "What the hell is wrong?"

Shepard pressed both hands hard against her eye sockets and yell-whispered "What do you _think_ is wrong?? I _fucking_ took out my _amp_ again."

James' jaw dropped. "Why the-"

Shepard raised her head, _glared_ at him, and bit out "Because I didn't _know_ how effective 'therapy' was going to be, and I _thought_ we were going to have **SEX** TONIGHT."

Vega just stood there for a second, staring at her as she cradled her head in pain, half-naked, still faintly shimmering... and then he came to his senses and started pulling her with him towards the door. "You _jinxed_ it."

Suddenly the roof access door was flung back, and Zavala ran through, rolling instinctively to come up crouched in cover, yelling" _SIT-REP!_ " He glanced over at James and Eliza, then did an obvious double-take at her nude, glowing body. His jaw dropped. "Whoah."

James pulled her behind him. "Disabled drone by northwest corner of roof, down two missiles. We're fine." He reconsidered. "Well... the Commander may actually have a killer headache."

" _Does_ have a killer headache," Eliza snarled.

The drone abruptly dropped to the surface of the roof; all of its lights extinguishing at once.

"Where is the _engineer_?" Tom asked, as he tried (and failed) not to watch Shepard struggling back into her shirt.

"Has to be on another roof, I figure." James postulated, glowering at Tom. "Put your eyes to better use and look around, will you? And do you have a spare gun?"

Zavala nodded and pulled another heavy pistol from his shoulder harness. "I'm low on clips, though. Just what's there. I never take a bunch of extras when I go out at night."

James finally thought to check his omni-tool. Nothing from Osorio. "There is _supposed_ to be back-up on some of these buildings. How can they not have _heard_ or _seen_ that rocket-fire?"

Zavala shrugged. "I didn't hear it, from down below. Osorio caught me right as I got home, said he thought he saw something suspicious on the cameras, and told me to check the roof. I had just knocked on Dr. T'Soni's door when I heard - well, I guess it was the first missile. I told her to check on Osorio and ran up here, only to hear _another_ explosion just before I opened the door."

James hit the button that auto-called Anderson. _Should had fucking done that **immediately**_ , he reproved himself.

Meanwhile, Shepard had finally managed to put her shirt back on. She had resumed holding her head. "I'm almost worse than useless without an amp, an omni-tool, or a gun," she muttered. "Have you called Anderson?"

"Just did."

Tom stared at her "Where the _fuck_ is your amp?"

James gesticulated widely. "I _KNOW_ , right??" He tried not to snort with humor at the look on Eliza's face.

Vega's omni-tool suddenly chimed, and Anderson's face popped up. He was in civvies, looking like they'd woken him up, but his voice was all business. "Report."

"Shots fired on the roof. We're fine. Downed a combat drone. We suspect Gilliam and/or Ramón _must_ be around here _somewhere_. Where is that damn air support, Sir?"

Anderson swore. "If you've taken fire and haven't had a response, either something happened to them, or they didn't have line of sight. Who downed the drone?"

"That'd be me," Shepard gritted out. "And OW."

"No amp," Vega and Zavala offered, in unison.

"Why the hell _not_!?" Anderson rebuked.

Eliza closed her eyes and quietly promised "I'm going to _kill_ the next person that asks me that."

\--

Immediately after Anderson hung up with them to check on his team, a message from Osorio popped up on James' and Tomas's omni-tools at the same time: _ROOF DIVERSION. BASEMENT COMPROMISED._

_Oh **hell** , no._

"Check on Liara!" Shepard yelled, wincing, as they all ran down the access stairs.

"I can't call Osorio or Liara if they're playing cat and mouse with someone in the damned basement," James gritted out. "We have to hope they're OK. She's a powerful biotic, right?"

He didn't wait to see her reaction, didn't even realize she wasn't still with them until he and Tom were halfway down the stairs to the first floor. "FUCKING HELL."

Zavala reached out a hand and grabbed him as he skidded to a halt and would have turned back. "She went to get her amp, James," Zavala asserted. "And probably her omni-tool. Let her go. She's fucking fast and she'll be right behind us." He took off again.

James followed him, but his heart was stuck somewhere on the second floor.

\--

They hit the lobby at a sprint and turned toward the manager's apartment, only to observe the air directly in front of Tom start to shimmer with a weird teal hue. The Vanguard yelped loudly enough to startle James into skidding to a halt and pivoting sideways. The Singularity just missed them both, twisting the air in front of 1-B like a mirage.

"Sorry!" someone called in a harsh, loud, whisper. They finally saw Liara, half-hidden behind the door to Osorio's apartment, armed with a submachine gun and glowing a more vibrant blue than Tom.

"What. the. _FUCK_." Zavala swore. "Are ALL female biotics absolutely _fucking_ INSANE?"

James snorted. "Easy. It was just a little friendly fire," he advised, as the field began to throb. "Where's Osorio?" he quietly called to T'Soni, watching to see when the Singularity would disperse so he could join her.

"He went down to investigate the basement directly after the alarm went off," she replied. Her face twisted. "He messaged me to stay here; from what he saw on the cameras, he suspected both of them had gotten in... and then split up. I remained in position, but I'm afraid I missed the second engineer - I'm fairly certain a strange human male cleared the landing on the back staircase just as I got to the apartment door. I fired off a Stasis field and missed whoever it was. I didn't want to leave Osorio alone chasing the other - especially if it's Gilliam - but _someone_ should go back up there."

James instantly turned, taking the stairs two at a time.

_**Joder. Joder. Joder. Joder...**_

\--

Even as his head cleared the risers, James realized Shepard was squaring off against a small, scruffy man in full body armor just across the hall from 2-B. They were each hiding behind one of the apartment doors, firing tech powers back and forth. Vega wondered if her biotics remained offline, given her headache.

He carefully slid down the hallway opposite 2-B and waited for what was probably a Neural Shock (given the strangled scream coming from Ramón) to set in. Then he reached around the doorway and grabbed the engineer on top of his omni-tool, twisting his left arm into an joint lock behind his back, nearly breaking it in his fury.

Then he _jumped_ as his omni-tool blared a musical alarm that meant a message marked "URGENT" - sent by one of only three people - had just arrived. His captive screamed as Vega's reflexive movement nearly ruptured the humeral joint.

James looked at Eliza. "Take this, will you?" and he shoved the armored man at her. Not missing a beat, she brought her knee up into his pelvis, and then slammed joined fists down on the back of his head as he bent over in agony.

James spared a glance at Ramón, out cold, on the floor. "Nice." Then he read the message, and said "Oh.... _**JODER!** Hijo de la chingada!_"

"What?!?"

With two taps, James forwarded Osorio's message to her anonymous account:

_BOMB HERE PROB >80 KILOS. NEED DISARM OR LOSE BLOCK. 2ND BOMB 2ND FLOOR. GET SHEP OUT NOW._

James instantly bent down to their captive and slapped his face. Ramón didn't react. Vega swore again, wondering if Shepard had managed to kill him. He checked for a pulse. The bastard was still alive, but he wasn't waking up.

"Don't tell me I have to waste medigel on this piece of shit," James muttered to Eliza. Or so he thought.

When he stood and turned, Shepard wasn't there. She had apparently entered 2-A and started searching for the explosive device, since James heard her yell "Wish we fucking knew what it looked like!"

James swore again, ready to tear out his hair, and joined her search.

" _Systematically_ , Shepard, or we'll never find it!"

"I _know_ , dammit! Bedroom clear!"

In Tom's living room closet, under a mound of unwashed laundry, they found a suspiciously heavy backpack. Eliza slowly slid it out of the closet and ran her omni-tool over it. A raspy string of Spanish swear words dripped out of her mouth. James started to sweat.

"How bad?"

Eliza ignored him, unzipping the closure and checking the wires, the detonator, the packs of ANFO that Osorio had correctly predicted. "It's bad. I'm not sure I can disarm it. Can you wake that _pendejo_ up?"

James swallowed. "Maybe with medigel. It would take... time." He swallowed again. "How-uh, much of that do we have?"

Eliza swore again. "Not enough. It's about to pass two minutes." She stood suddenly and hefted the bag, passing it from one hand to the other. " _JESUS._ "

James glared at her. "Get the _fuck_ out of here! _**NOW**_."

Eliza shook her head. "No." And she started to run to the stairwell. _With_ the bomb.

James followed her as she picked up speed, wanting to shake some sense into her, but all he could do was yell "Shepard, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!"

"It's at least fifteen kilos," she panted. "It will _decimate_ the upper two floors and massively damage the surrounding buildings. But I'm pretty sure I can Throw it far enough to the south-west that it will explode in the air over the interchange, maybe the park. That explosion shouldn't destroy much of anything."

James went apoplectic. " _HOW_ sure is **pretty** sure!?"

Eliza shrugged as they slid through Liara's apartment, up the roof stairs, and out into the night air again. She cautiously approached the short ledge around the roof, standing way too close to the edge for James' comfort.

"We're about twenty meters up. If you set me, that hopefully gives the pack another five meters. You need to _loft_ it - try for more than forty-five degrees." Her arm rose at an angle as her eyes checked the time remaining on the detonator. "Fifty seconds. Listen - message Anderson and warn him that there is going to be a massive airburst explosion southwest of our building. If I time it _perfectly_ , at least... say... _sixty_ meters above ground level. Bomb's not heavy enough for shrapnel. Probably. Maybe."

James typed as she spoke, and then circled around to what she'd said first " _Set_ you?"

"Yeah, you're gonna throw the bomb. In about twenty seconds. As _hard_ as you can." She started to shimmer a vivid cobalt, growing more radiant by the second, and then she _handed him_ the damn backpack.

"You - holy fuck, Shepard..."

"James... on the count of three. Remember to _loft_ it - angle of my arm." She checked her omni-tool, right arm still raised. "Three... Two... One... **THROW IT!** "

James wound up and _heaved_ the damned thing into the sky. In the light of the streetlights, he estimated he'd gotten a BIT more height than a measly five meters, but _his_ contribution to the bomb's flight path was _dwarfed_ by the searing blue light that slammed into the bag and took it soaring in an arc away from the building.

Eliza apparently was still visually tracking it because she suddenly screamed " _EXPLODE_ , YOU _CHINGDERA!_ "

There was a _massive_ detonation, about a quarter-kilometer away, in the sky over Malkin Avenue. James cursed his stupidity in not shoving Eliza into cover as the shockwave hit, rocking the building underneath them. Vega half-expected to hear the shattering of glass all around them... but didn't.

Shepard had tears rolling down her cheeks. "I hope like hell that was the right choice," she whispered. "When they strip my fucking rank, _this_ is what I will miss _least_ : being the one to decide what blows up where, and who might die because of it."

Around the neighborhood, alarms began going off: at the local fire station, at the police station. They could hear people yelling and screaming in all directions.

"Yeah, well, everyone is _home sleeping_ in these buildings, and they probably would have died, had that thing gone off up here. So from where I'm sitting, you made the right call." He extended his jaw, checking his sinuses and eardrums for damage; everything felt like it was still intact. "Plus, you _really_ one-up'd me on the whole 'countdown' thing."

Just as Vega said "countdown", a shuttle flew in and hovered over the roof of their building.

\--

James instinctively pushed Shepard into the alcove she'd once used to bathe, turned, and pulled his pistol, leveling it on the opening door. Then his brain registered the insignia on the vehicle. He grabbed Eliza by the arm, and - when she protested - dragged her over to it.

Vega eyed the uniform of the armed officer who appeared in the hatch. "Lieutenant. You have code clearance for me?"

The man rolled his eyes slightly. "I do, but- I swear to _God_ this is what they told me-" He cleared his throat. "Jaime and Lola are kissing cousins."

Shepard started in surprise.

"That's it. Take her. **Now**." He turned to Shepard. "I'm releasing custody of you-" he glanced quickly at the man's uniform again, "To Lieutenant Alvarez. **GET. ON. THE. DAMN. SHUTTLE.** "

Shepard merely opened her mouth to _begin_ to argue, and James picked her up and tossed her on board.

"Get _out_ of here, Lieutenant. Remind Anderson they need medics at Malkin, and engineers to the basement YESTERDAY." He turned, then swiveled back as the shuttle started to close its door. He saluted. "If anything-" he called, then stopped and simply said "It was an honor to serve with you, Commander."

James ran for the roof access.

\--

Minutes later, he located Osorio crouched in a corner of the basement.

"James... _Gracias a Dios_. I can not..."

And then Vega saw the blood.

"Mierda! Robert! I'll get-"

" **NO.** " Osorio's voice was implacable. The older man slumped backwards until he was leaning against the wall. "I am **ordering** you to remain here. I will tell you _exactly_ what to do. But you must do it now. If others were coming, they would have been here already."

James looked into the crate that Osorio had been bending over and swallowed hard. _So that's what eighty kilos of ANFO wired to plastic explosives looks like. Can't say I'm a fan._

"Uh... Robert? Did I not tell you guys that punting tech stuff my way was going to blow up in our faces one day?"

Osorio's face creased in pain. "No jokes now, James. It hurts far too much to laugh. I need you to remove the detonator to get to a circuit board on the other side. I will tell you exactly which wires to cut. There is a tool board by the stairs. Get something to cut with, now."

\--

As Vega searched the board, he muttered "This was their _second_ feint, right? We maybe lose the top of the building, maybe not, but either way, we figure it's over. Then... BOOM, an entire block goes up." He located the wire snips and ran back to Osorio.

"James, _concentrate._ There will be a long red wire leading from the detonator to the main body of explosives. Under NO circumstance are you to cut it. Do not pull on it, trip over it - do not even _roughly jar_ it. Do you understand?"

James nodded, and then said "Yes."

"Good. There is another red wire, leading from the circuit board on the detonator to the PETN. This will be the LAST wire you cut. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Time."

James checked, gulped. "Just under four minutes."

Osorio, whom James had NEVER heard swear, suddenly swore in Spanish. "Lift me up. I will cut the wires in sequence. It will be faster than explaining."

When Vega lifted Robert up, blood ran down his hands. He nearly bit through his lower lip trying not to react. He watched the man's face crumple, but forced himself to shift Osorio enough so that the engineer could see all the wires in the box.

"She is very, very good," Osorio muttered. And he began to cut.

\--

James had carefully settled Robert onto the floor, and had relocated the short red wire as instructed, when Tom ran into the basement.

"Gilliam is down. She led us on a merry chase, but-"

" **Stop talking.** " James forced himself to keep his eyes on what he was doing, not the detonator clocking down. "Are you any better at this shit than I am?"

Tom reared back. "Hell **no** I am not."

"Can you put up a Barrier between this thing and the rest of the world?"

"My Barrier is _crap_ , but even an _Asari_ Barrier isn't going to hold back **that**."

"Then fucking run upstairs and get the medkit. Osorio is hurt way worse than he's willing to admit."

Tom ran out again. Osorio motioned to James to cut the red wire.

He had just eased the wire snips around the red plastic when Liara ran into the basement, beginning to glow. She ignored James utterly and ran her omni-tool over Osorio, then did something that caused Robert to _also_ pulse with blue light.

James cut the last wire, wincing and sweating. He wiped his forehead. "What was that?"

"Modified stasis field. It may help."

"He can still talk, right? Because I have-" he checked the detonator -"less than a minute and a half to finish disarming this fucking thing."

"I can still speak, James. If you have found and cut all the lead wires to the detonator, lift it out... rather carefully."

"Oh. **Great**. _Lifting..._ "

Tom sprinted back in and slid to a halt, nearly running into Liara. She mutely held out a hand and he dropped the kit into it. "I'd only administer one stim until we know the extent of the gunshot wounds," he said quietly. He needs to be awake."

Liara nodded, her face sad. "I understand. I'm hoping Stasis will help."

" _Could you guys possibly **CUT** THE CHATTER?_" James tried not to pay any more attention to their oblique discussion about having to allow Osorio to bleed out rather than render him unconscious. He knew if he _didn't_ ignore them, he was going to fucking lose it, throw Osorio over his shoulder, and scream at everyone to RUN. "Roberto... _**no** te vayas ahora_. You're the only explosives expert I've got and we're WAY too far into this to stop."

Osorio actually managed to smile, though it was clear he was in a lot of pain. " _Carefully_ turn the detonator over and find the top circuit. It will be marked something like 'XJT'... and some sequence of numbers."

James activated the flashlight on his omni-tool and scanned the circuit board. "XJF-1315? or XCT-10000?"

Osorio paused a second, closing his eyes. "The first one. Bring the detonator here and point to the top of that circuit. Watch the long red wire. Do NOT trip over it or pull it too far."

"The XJF-1315 one."

"Yes."

James very slowly turned, remaining wires attached to the ANFO trailing behind him, and took the step that allowed him to lower the inverted detonator in front of Osorio. He extended a finger to the tiny clip of even smaller pins that were hopefully anchoring the entire timing mechanism.

"Whatever you're going to do, Robert, you might want to hurry - we're at fifty seconds."

Osorio solemnly nodded and ran his omni-tool over the clips. Then he started to cough blood. Liara hit him with another shot of medigel, over Tom's objection.

"ROBERT," Zavala yelled. "WHAT NEXT?"

"Pull... that... pin..." the Infiltrator murmured. Red fluid pooled on his lips.

"Is that **IT**?" Vega asked harshly. "Will that disarm it??" _Thirty seconds_.

Osorio nodded.

" _GET HIM THE **FUCK** OUT OF HERE,_ Vega yelled. He carefully grasped the minuscule cause of their imminent utter destruction.

Liara and Tom hadn't waited. They were both already glowing, and as soon as Osorio nodded, Tom cast Pull on the Engineer, gently raising him off the ground, and Liara re-Cast her Stasis field. Then they _ran_ , with him floating between them, out of the basement.

_Ten... Nine... This is not **NEARLY** as fun as last week... Six... Five... Four... Three..._

James pulled the tiny computer chip out of the board and waited to explode.

Then... it was three seconds later... and he _hadn't_ died. James leaned over on the floor of the basement, unabashedly crying.

\--

It felt like he'd wept for a year, even though he knew it was only a minute or so. The thought that pulled him out was _Osorio_.

James threw open the door into the alley and made the hard right that took him, sprinting, onto Princess Ave. He ran a couple blocks before finding Tom and Liara.

"Status! Where the _hell_ is evac?!"

Tom held up his omni-tool; on it, a timer counting down, showing 0:51. "They understand we're priority, but everyone went to Malkin and the park. There was some shrapnel, a few injured - including some older kids playing basketball - but I wouldn't tell Shepard that. Bunch of cars got rolled by the blast. Their ETA was two minutes, a minute ago." He paused. "Thanks for, well, saving our butts, James."

Vega sighed. "Sorry I cut you off in there; where are Gilliam and Ramón?" He watched Liara applying pressure bandages over _way_ too many gunshot wounds on Robert's torso with a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Gilliam is dead. We finally cornered her on the second floor; she was trying to revive Ramón. I used Biotic Charge and hit her, well, pretty hard. We used the same Pull and Stasis combination on Ramón, and stuck him in the man-trap. Since the building didn't actually explode, he'll still be in there."

Liara suddenly caught her breath audibly and made a low-pitched, comforting, noise. "Shhhh. Easy. The shuttle is coming. Stay still." James watched as she gave Osorio another shot of medigel.

Knowing the engineer was about to go unconscious again, Vega bent over and clasped Robert's shoulder. "So... what rank are you _really?_ "

"Major," Osorio's voice was weak, but smug. "I allowed you to order me around for a fortnight, James. That should make you proud."

"One more order then, _Major_ Osorio. _No te mueras en mí. Nunca me perdonaría._ " James tried to smile and failed utterly. "Plus Hackett would have me murdered in my sleep."

Five seconds later, a shuttle touched down about thirty feet away, and the two biotics transferred Major Robert Osorio to it with all due speed.

\--

Anyone having been told the tale of that particular Wednesday, two and a half weeks into Lieutenant James Vega's custody of Commander Elizabeth Shepard, would have figured that Vega's life could have _only_ gotten better from there.

They would have been wrong.

Much later that night (or early the next morning) after Alliance Intelligence had spent hours sweating Ramón, James finally had a chance to take in everything had happened. 

And it hurt going down.

\--

Around 03:00 Thursday morning, Anderson related to Vega that he'd given up on sleep after they spoke about the drone strike. When he couldn't reach any of his teams, he'd awakened Hackett (and many others on the Defense Committee) even before the smaller bomb was pitched off the roof at Princess Ave and exploded over Trillium Park. He'd dispatched men to begin checking in on the teams, and they reported in with solemn sadness that they were finding dead troops. After the bomb went off, most with any medical training jumped onto shuttles. Around midnight, some of Hackett's men pulled the surviving assassin out of the man-trap at Princess Ave.

He'd found out that Gilliam (who'd holed up in the last place they'd expected to find her - across the street) had known all about the snipers and shuttles. She'd spent much of Wednesday evening disrupting communications among the staged forces, then dispatching 'Ramón' to quietly take them out. This had _incensed_ Anderson and Hackett; they'd lost a half-dozen troops to Sinclair's purchase of two _ex-Marines_ , in an attempt to assassinate a _third_.

Anderson explained that when they ran DNA on 'Ramón', they discovered - underneath the weight loss, long hair, scruff, and civvies - he was actually former Staff Sergent Eduardo Gonzalez. The engineer (while his disciplinary record was considerably longer than James' own) had been granted an honorable medical discharge for combat fatigue, which was more than likely how the pair had acquired even _some_ PETN.

At first, Eduardo had been optimistic about Gilliam's plan. She'd advanced him two hundred thousand credits: half the money Sinclair had _directly_ slipped to her through various channels, far more than than they'd paid the Gardners (and, through the Gardners, Enrique and Josef). When Anderson and Hackett heard those numbers, they realized that the bounty on Shepard must be considerably higher than the reputed five hundred thousand. Sinclair had lawyered up, but Hackett was _salivating_ at the idea of shoving Eduardo's testimony, regarding how many credits had changed hands, in front of a military tribunal.

Gilliam had explained how she planned to pick off Shepard's guards, and how she would eventually bring down the building. She'd done her homework on Robert Osorio, and designed her explosive set-up so that only someone as well-trained as the Major had a chance to disarm them. She'd always meant to kill the Major when she finally hacked her way into the basement. Everything had depended on her and Eduardo placing the large bomb without Osorio warning the others, and then getting clear before it exploded. At least... that's what Gonzales had _thought_ was going to happen. Until she had handed another device to him and told him to plant it upstairs.

The former Sergent disclosed that his first frisson of unease about the job occurred when - even with all her intel, and their crew having located the targets so quickly - they'd failed to kill Tomas Zavala and Shepard's bodyguard James Vega. But he'd _known_ something was amiss when (even though she'd placed a ten-minute countdown on a fairly large bomb and shoved it into his hands) she seemed to expect him to survive hiding it upstairs. Despite the fact that she knew the fire escape had been removed the day before. He insisted that he'd considered abandoning her at that point.

Clearly desiring to at least _appear_ helpful, Eduardo had also finally cleared up the mystery of how they'd been located so quickly. Anderson had been inclined to chalk it up to chance, but James couldn't look at it that way.

Not when _he'd_ been the leak.

They got confirmation from the man Shepard had nick-named 'Twitchy Guard'. When the events of the night resulted not in Shepard's death, but _Gilliam's_ , Hendriks _finally_ started talking. He grudgingly explained that the man who'd complained high and low about James having stolen his thermos and cookies from the detention facility had been a friend. After James brought the _exact same_ thermos (and cookies) to Hawks Ave - the site crew spies had been flabbergasted that the Marines guarding Shepard were basically _flaunting_ who they were. In fact, they had been disposed to believe it was a trap; it made them hold off on a serious attempt to take out James for an entire week.

Vega listened to Anderson crack a joke about "the butterfly effect" with a stomach constructed entirely of lead. It didn't help that the Admiral informed him Hendriks had admitted to giving Shepard's transponder signal to Teresa Gilliam before he'd been arrested; she'd been able to confirm their location effortlessly once she'd acquired the proper software and an initial search vector.

The vector _he'd_ provided. Yes, Gilliam would have found Shepard eventually, no matter what, but he'd greatly sped her process.

He couldn't even appreciate the irony of Anderson installing _them_ as undercover workers at the same time Sinclair was doing it with their undercover _assassins_.

\--

Anderson wound up his call by informing Vega that Hackett would be submitting his name for another commendation, due to his extraordinary service under pressure. Anderson had been especially impressed that James had respected and trusted Robert Osorio's superior training (if not, at the moment, rank), resulting in hundreds of thousands of lives saved. When James protested that it had been _all_ Osorio, Anderson snorted and told him not to worry; there would be enough commendations to go around.

Vega just hoped one of them wouldn't be posthumous. He hadn't had any news other than Robert was still alive, but remained in critical condition. 

The Admiral urged James to get some well-deserved rest. He assured James that Eliza was at Headquarters, being treated well, and she'd been briefed on most of this intel by Hackett already.

The Defense Committee (either woken by a holo-call or by a bomb going off in their city) had already unanimously decided to release a statement officially supporting Shepard, and they would be in session tomorrow at 07:00 to work out a deal to end the bounty.

"Alenko's and T'Soni's official testimony, as expected, were absolutely key in convincing the Committee that Reapers most likely _do_ exist," he explained with some satisfaction. "They turned the tide. I'm somewhat optimistic that - if we can get the Hegemony off her back - Eliza will be in to testify early next week, and will be able to persuade the Committee that the Reapers _are_ invading our galaxy. And - hopefully - this time, they will actually _listen_ to her."

\--

After Anderson rang off, James tried to sleep. He really did.

But his thermos stupidity _ate_ at him. _All_ of his mistakes with Shepard ate at him. Ending up on the roof, under attack, and her without her amp, omni-tool, or a gun, _really_ ate at him. She'd been rendered nearly defenseless by their... he didn't even know what to call their behavior these past two weeks.

And it _ate_ at him that it was _Alenko_ (and Dr. T'Soni, but he was self-aware enough to admit he didn't see her as a potential rival) who would ultimately _save_ her.

He tossed and turned in the empty bed in 2-B until he finally admitted he _had_ to know.

At 03:45 on Thursday morning, six days after finally _meeting_ him, James downloaded - and then read - the entirety of Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko's testimony to the Defense Committee.

By 04:00, he finally knew what it was he'd been missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a rather _large_ amount of research went into this Chapter, and now i'm probably on an FBI watchlist, but it was all worth it if you guys enjoyed it even a little. i Googled and Wiki'd my way through MANY various fun explosives (ANFO: ammonium nitrate fuel oil mix), and read WAY too much about various historic terrorist attacks, in order to bring even a tiny slice of reality to this Chapter. and, hell - i also did quite a bit of MATH for this Chapter: vector and projectile motion, and i checked NUKEMAP (Google it! it's cool!) for bomb radii, and ran equations factoring in the max Newton-force listed for the "Throw" biotic power...
> 
> BONUS: if you look at a map of Vancouver close enough, you will be able to see exactly where Shepard's safehouse is located now (on the NW corner of Prior and Princess). for extra credit (and sick fun?) you can actually drag the pointer in NUKEMAP approximately to the location where the bomb would have exploded, and use (i think?) 0.00001 tons (as the bomb force)... and basically watch Elizabeth Shepard bomb Trillium Park!
> 
> hey, why should i have all the fun?
> 
> disclaimer: i have NO idea how to disarm a bomb an ex-Marine engineer might have assembled hundreds of years in the future... so i just wrote something suspenseful that sounded cool. :)
> 
> lastly, i have tweaked who has what powers based on story, but i have tried to justify them based on backstory. you don't KNOW Tom's backstory, so the fact that he had a (crappy) Barrier as a Vanguard and knows Stasis (when it's an advanced Asari-esque power in the ME3) might seem OP, but trust me - the kid's been around. this Shepard likewise has *two* "premiere" powers (or "Bonus" powers): Reave and Stasis... but the devs who made those changes to powers from ME1 to ME3 can bite me.
> 
> all in all, i tried to balance what these characters *can* do and what they *can't* do to make them powerful... but not exactly superhuman. i hope i've succeeded.
> 
> so, yeah - you probably don't care *that* much, but, well, a lot of fact-checking went into this chapter and i STILL might have gotten some stuff wrong; feel free to comment and tell me if i did. :) or ask questions. :)
> 
> your Spanish:
> 
> CHINGDERA ~ FUCKING THING  
> no te vayas ahora ~ don't go away now  
> No te mueras en mí ~ Don't die on me  
> Nunca me perdonaría ~ I would never forgive myself.


	20. Descomponerse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end.

_Ah, roof. Site of so many errors in judgment. And one bombing._

James grabbed the surviving chaise lounger and dragged it, screeching against the grimy tile, over to the east side of the building. He turned it around until it faced the rising sun. Dawn was about to break, and he intended to see it. If Osorio had died in the middle of working on the bomb last night...

He plunked a cooler containing the rest of Alenko's beer down next to the chair.

 _Not like the bastard is coming back to drink it. Not him. He just needed to swoop in, save_ my _life, **save Shepard** , and ride off into the sunset._

James threw himself into the lounger, grabbed a beer, twisted the metal top off and plinked it down onto the roof tile. He leaned back and downed half the bottle in several continuous swallows, watching clouds of pink and gold creep up into the sky over the buildings.

He realized, quite suddenly, that he was exhausted. That was all there was to it. And he knew it wasn't just the one sleepless night, fighting and dodging explosions; it was two weeks of trying to herd Commander Shepard that had completely worn him out.

_Or maybe the two weeks of 'will we or won't we?'._

On top of finding out that _Kaidan fucking Alenko_ had lived the same damn two and a half weeks, just over three years ago.

_And I damn well feel justified in getting angry at her, because she COULD have told me. It would have bothered me no matter **when** I found out about it, sure, but now I have to wonder why she hid it. At least a lot of things that were completely inexplicable make sense now._

James struggled, one second sure that what _really_ bothered him was that she'd kept it from him, the next second feeling almost sick to his stomach at the realization that she'd been in love with Alenko. And how - if she hadn't **died** \- they'd probably still be together.

 _Hell, it sounds like if Command hadn't actually_ kept _them apart, after Cerberus managed to bring her back, they might have hooked up again. THAT must have been a slap in the face._

He vividly remembered how she'd skirted around some aspects of Horizon when he'd questioned her. She'd mentioned on their discovery of the pods, and how it was both a horror and a relief to have actual proof of what was happening to the colonists. She'd jumped to the fight, and James realized he'd been so wrapped up in her description of the Praetorian (since the one on Fehl Prime had done so much damage to his team) that he hadn't asked too many questions about the aftermath. He remembered how he'd sensed she'd taken an emotional hit somewhere, how he'd assumed she has _also_ lost a member of her ground crew, and been loathe to discuss it.

 _Now_ he knew what she'd ended up facing on Horizon was _Kaidan_. His condemnation of her mission. His refusal to help her. Indeed, he'd admitted in his deposition that he'd been sent, in advance, to try to lure out the Collectors... and to _spy on her_.

Shepard was no idiot; one of the very first things she'd done after getting away from the Illusive Man was head to the Citadel to check in with the Council, and she'd confronted then- _Ambassador_ Anderson about her crew in general, and Alenko in particular. Anderson had _ducked_ telling her where Kaidan was.

It had to have been exceptionally awful to find out that the two people she trusted most - her mentor and her lover - had conspired to trap her on Horizon. Given that these were the very same people who had urged her to her _initial_ act of treason - stealing the Normandy and chasing Saren to Ilos - it must have been especially egregious.

They'd ultimately been forced to admit she was loyal after all. But by then... she'd _known what they did_. And, well, she ended up getting _tortured_ in the null room for good measure. James figured _all of that_ probably hurt like hell.

_Still..._

He grabbed his next beer.

\--

Four beers down. The sun was fully up. He refused to check his chron, yet assumed it was past 07:00. He was hoping to get news on Osorio any time now. He figured that, within a few hours, he'd see some sort of official Command announcement regarding Shepard... if they'd managed to hash it out in the face of the Batarians effectively bombing the Systems Alliance capital. That was the kind of thing, James figured, that couldn't just be swept under the rug.

He sipped on the longneck, wondering why it was that he didn't expect to hear from _her_. Wondering if he actually _wanted_ to. And what the hell he'd say when he _did_ hear from her.

He suddenly found himself wondering what Toni would have made of his life choices since Fehl Prime: the drinking, the new assignment, the second chances, the fuck-ups and bad choices, and now _more_ drinking...

He'd probably kick James in the tail and tell him to stop moping around, that he had the 'goddam luck of a...'

_What was the phrase? Something about a horseshoe..._

\--

James tried to ignore the fact that he felt even the _slightest_ bit better (given she'd been traumatized in an assault by someone who knew Reave, and then had her heart crushed by someone she'd _taught_ to Reave) that her relationship with Alenko might have had a few obstacles to long-term success _anyway_.

After her initial session with Shepard, Liara had pulled him aside and tried to explain a bit of how transference worked in humans (it seemed Asari ended up on the other side of it often enough to have made a study of it). He was still unclear as to how the brain chose a corollary in the new person. As relieved as he felt to be Shepard's mental "Kane" and not her "Finn"... he didn't see Kaidan Alenko fitting the role of 'villain' either.

_Then again... I've never been in love with him and had him treat me like crap._

His chest hurt when he remembered - _Dios_ , had it REALLY been just last night? - she'd mentioned that Kane had maybe loved her. Which, at the time, had felt like her questioning whether or not James had similar feelings.

And for the life of him, he couldn't answer that question, _especially_ around the huge knot of betrayal caught in his gut.

He nabbed another beer.

\--

Hearing a shuttle approach finally persuaded him to check his omni-tool. It was only 07:22. Three-quarters of the beer was already gone. And, in the corner of his eye, someone was getting out of the hovering vehicle. He refused to look... but he was fairly sure he knew who it was. 

He could tell she was approaching him cautiously by how very _long_ it took her to cross a mere dozen meters. He waited. She waited. Eventually, one of them let fly.

"So... _Alenko_ , huh?"

He saw her frame jerk with surprise in his peripheral vision. He rotated his torso to face her. She had blanked her face, but he got the impression that - had he twisted around a second earlier - she might have looked as if he'd slapped her.

"I mean... he was your junior officer on the SR-1, right?"

Still nothing.

James rubbed the back of his neck. "No skin off my nose, Shepard. Just, if you were going to take issue with someone showing up to testify at your trial, it _probably_ shouldn't have been the one you broke regs with. That _tends_ to be the kind of thing Command wants to hear about."

Shepard shut down and turned away. He watched it happen with a sinking feeling in his gut. _Mistake, Vega._

She took a couple steps around him, then abruptly swung back. "Et tu, James? Has the Committee called _you_ already? Is this my warning shot that since I broke regs with you, I shouldn't be upset if you kiss and tell?"

Vega started in surprise and then his jaw set, hard. " _Eso es un montón de mierda_ , Shepard. That's **way** below the belt. I have covered for you EVERY step of the way, and I'll _continue_ to cover for you. I gave my word."

Somewhere in the middle of his scree, the Commander turned and walked away, wrenching open the access door and disappearing inside. James wasn't even certain she'd heard the last part of what he'd said. He hung his head.

_Pinche Dios._

\--

The last three beers were gone, and James was gutting himself with remorse.

What had he expected, really? Had he expected her to defend herself, after he went and attacked her? Hadn't they already determined that _neither_ of them backed down from a fight? What, _exactly_ , had he _wanted_ her to say?

 _'I would have told you, James, but I was half out of my head after the repression field, and the panic attacks, and I started to have feelings for **you** , but then **he** showed up and it was terrible all over again... and we were_ just _getting to a place where I_ might _have told you, only you went and found out yourself'?_

"You know... you _could_ have saved me one."

Vega didn't move, but every muscle in his body locked down. " **Not** now, Tom."

Zavala, oblivious, skirted around the chaise and perched on the side of one of the unscathed planter boxes. "Just saying - I'm pretty sure there was half a _case_ left."

James slowly shifted his gaze until he met Tom's eyes. Braver men had been cowed by his current mood, and he waited for the biotic to wilt.

Zavala didn't flinch. He did, however, angle himself away from the Lieutenant, hopping up on the planter and letting his feet dangle on either side of the corner. He sighed, looking out over the eastern sky.

"You know... we _all_ fucked up."

_Great. **THIS** should be fun._

"What makes you think I'm up here drinking because I fucked up? Didn't you hear - I'm getting another god-damned _commendation_." He automatically reached down into the cooler, fished around, and swore in Spanish as he came up empty.

Tom, without even bothering to look, reached into his T-shirt pocket and pulled out a small flask. He extended his arm in Vega's direction. "Seriously, sip it. It's _Elasa_ , cut with Ryncol. I figured we might need it once this was all over."

James lifted the palm-sized container out of the biotic's hand, uncapped it, and tentatively sipped. He started coughing almost immediately. " _Mierda_ , that's..." Then the aftertaste hit him, and his speech stuttered to a halt. The liquor was cold... and hot. It was bitter, yet sweet. All of it, in sequence, like a crowd stampeding over his tongue. And he was _not_ going to cry again, dammit, but it was like someone had managed to distill Eliza and pour her down his throat.

"I let myself get followed home from the club. It doesn't matter if they already had the Commander's location; it was sloppy field work, and knowing my routes probably made it a _lot_ easier to track _all_ of us and also to avoid Osorio's cameras. That's just the most minor thing. I **knew** something was _off_ about 'Gabriela' from the get-go, and yet instead of taking her seriously, I screwed around with her. I should have brought her in - or eliminated her - _way_ before it became an issue; that's my job. And I didn't do it. I was also _extraordinarily_ careless on Saturday night; I probably _deserved_ to die then. I owe you and Shepard my life."

Tom paused, and then took a deep breath. He looked like whatever he was about to say was being tortured out of him.

"And I... I _knew_ about Shepard and Alenko, and I didn't tell you. Even when I saw how... attached... you were." Zavala swung the leg farthest from James back around, so that he was facing forward again. "In retrospect, it was probably a bad choice. If only because you would have understood better why their energy is... well... they'll always be..."

"I get it." James interrupted curtly, taking another, much _larger_ sip off the flask. Knowing what to expect, this one didn't burn as badly.

"James, listen to me. For once, take me seriously, because for once I'm _being_ serious. **Anyone** who's seen the two of you together knows how much you care about each other. I knew. Osorio knew. _Hackett and Anderson_ probably know. Hell, maybe Anderson knew the two of you would be a good fit _years_ ago, and that's why he chose you." Zavala sighed. "But nothing is going to change the fact that she and Kaidan really loved each other once. Nor the fact that..." Tom stopped speaking and bit his lip.

James looked up at him and arched a brow. "The fact that... what?"

_You knew that Kaidan had every intention of pursuing her when he got here, didn't you?_

Zavala let out an explosive breath. "It doesn't matter. What matters is how _she_ feels, because she is _clearly_ over him. I mean, nearly killing him with a Warp implosion while unconscious is a _pretty_ good indication that his energy is unwelcome." Tom sighed again. "It's why he left."

_Nice evasion._

"I thought maybe he and Liara were ducking each other."

Zavala blinked, and swallowed. "Yeah, well... they did sort of... compete for the Commander's attentions at one point. As far as I know, though, that's all in the past. I'm pretty sure they're fine."

James arched a brow. "But he still has feelings for her. That's the thing you don't want to tell me."

Tom shrugged and shook his head. "I shouldn't have said anything. It doesn't matter. What matters is she cares for _you_. But if you decide that you can't handle that she's incredibly dangerous, on trial, a hacker, a _huge_ pain in the ass - or was once in love with one of her crew - well... that's another matter."

Behind and below them, beeping transports and workmen yelling were evidence of the clean-up on the streets of Vancouver, and in Trilliam Park. But to the east, an azure sky dotted with puffy white clouds proclaimed it was going to be another gorgeous summer day.

"I don't hold it against you, Tom. I figured out you almost _did_ tell me, the morning after the _first_ time the building nearly came down." James tried to smile along with Zavala, but couldn't quite manage it. "I'm upset that **she** didn't tell me."

Tom nodded. And gestured for his flask. When James handed it over, he took a small swig, then passed it back again.

They sat there, sharing the _Elasa_ /Ryncol mixture, until Tom sucked down the last dregs and slid the flask back into his pocket. He sighed and hopped off the planter, turning to go. Then, he paused.

"There's... one more thing. It... doesn't have anything to do with why I didn't let you know about them. I mean... I _didn't_ set out to break you guys up or whatever." He chewed his lip. "The thing is, James... if she's dumb enough to be utterly unwilling to try to fix this... and you... well... ever need me, all you have to do is drop me a message."

James blinked. The Vanguard had turned red enough that it was visible even through the deep tan. Vega raised both eyebrows in confused inquiry.

"I mean-" Tom took a deep breath. " **I** happen to think you're amazing. And while I probably have _way_ more indiscretions under my belt - so to speak - than Shepard, I'm more than willing to tell you about them. And, er, re-live them. With you."

James felt his stomach drop out. _Madre de Dios. Santa Mierda. Qué diablos..._ Could he handle **this** much stress and shock in one day? Tom liked _him_?

"I... uh..."

Tom sucked in a breath and let it out slow. "I get it. Just... had to take my shot, you know?"

And then the biggest biotic pain in the ass James had ever met (and that was saying something, because **Essex** and **Shepard** were _definitely_ up there) flashed him a wistful smile and walked away.

\--

After that, James knew he wasn't going back downstairs for awhile. He sat and stewed over how many fucking people he'd managed to hurt on this _one_ mission alone. He left _another_ message on Hackett's and Anderson's VI messaging systems, asking about Osorio.

The alcohol eventually kicked in. He fell asleep in the chaise lounge.

\--

When he woke up, groggy and dumb after treading the line between falling asleep and _passing out_ , his first realization was that he'd gotten a wee bit sunburnt. Probably _not_ the smartest idea to fall asleep up here, at least not without having first dragged himself into the shade. Especially after drinking all morning, and not having had any water. If he hadn't covered the loungers (for purposes he didn't dare think about at the present moment), he'd more than likely have **actual** burns.

_Idiota. Stupido._

He stumbled over to the cistern and only JUST remembered to take off his omni-tool and toss it back on the chaise, before yanking the pull chain next to his head. He gasped with relief as water ran down over his sunburned skin, soaking his clean T-shirt and shorts.

 _Christ, don't_ drink _it, Vega. Who knows what's growing in that tank._

He spent about ten minutes under the steam of water, ultimately realizing why Shepard had crept up here that first day, _and_ why she'd been sort of annoyed to be interrupted. Another fail.

When hunger and thirst were _clawing_ at his insides, and he felt he could put it off no longer, he pulled the chain again, stepped out, and shook himself off like a dog. Then he braced himself and picked up his omni-tool.

_Yeeesh. 12:07. No wonder I'm crispy._

\--

When he crept inside Liara's apartment, calling "Anyone home?" softly enough so that she could be justified in ignoring him if she was working inside her bedroom, and the sound echoed inside an empty space, he started to suspect _everyone_ had left.

Running downstairs to 2-B, and finding it empty, seemed to confirm it. He poured and drank glass after glass of tap water and then ransacked the kitchen, randomly eating food whose chief merit was that he didn't have to cook it.

No one wandered in. Of course Liara _couldn't_ wander in (past the lock) but Shepard or Zavala could... if they were here...

He knew he didn't _technically_ have custody of her anymore - not since Alvarez had made off with her last night, and had neglected to officially return her - yet... he couldn't help but wonder if Headquarters was tracking her, was sure she was OK, was positive they'd actually caught _everybody_. He hoped Command was damn certain Sinclair had given up.

_Am I cursed to spend the rest of my life worrying about a woman who is currently so incredibly pissed at me that she won't speak to me? Even though I'm so jealous that she was - or is still? - in love with someone else, that I want to wring her damn neck for not being **honest** with me?_

\--

He finally thought to run through his messages:

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 09:38 MST  
Subject: Robert Osorio  
Message: While Robert's condition remains critical, he is slightly improved. He underwent three transfusions at two hour intervals, but did not slip into shock as the medical team feared. They are no longer concerned that the blood loss was too severe to be survivable. He even regained consciousness for a few moments last night, before the staff induced a medical coma to help him speed-heal ruptured organs. He said to tell you _'No puedo dejar que Hackett te mate. No iré a ningún lado.'_ Care to explain?**

James sat down on the couch, not even trying to stop the tears this time.

_Gracias a Dios, gracias... Gracias._

\--

Five or ten minutes later, James lifted his arm and flicked the omni-tool on again. He didn't know _what_ to say to Hackett, so he left that message and continued on:

**From: Lt. Steve Cortez (s_cortez@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 11:18 MST  
Subject: BOMBING?  
Message: So, I heard about the bombing. Glad _someone_ bothered to let me know you're alive, as I don't have a line on anyone else to help finish cataloguing the Armory. BTW, meet you on the shuttlepad at 07:00 tomorrow.**

James snorted. _Nice. Wait... how does he know I can meet him?_

\--

**From: Dr. Liara T'Soni (liara_t_soni@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 12:45 MST  
Subject: This morning.  
Message: I have no idea what you said to Shepard, but I hope you're ready to apologize this afternoon when she and I return. If this is about Alenko, I have a great deal of empathy for you, but from what I've observed of her in the last year - and what she told me about Horizon - you have less than nothing to worry about from him... no matter what he still feels.**

James blinked and re-read the message twice more, jaw clenching.

_Wow. In one sentence she confirms that Kaidan is still in love with Eliza and in the next claims I've got nothing to worry about. Would have carried a LOT more weight, Dr. T' Soni, if you'd actually **been** here, and **SEEN** them together last week._

James' brain flashed back through every meal they'd shared. All the looks, all the silences, all the questions, all the teasing. Everything now was So. Very. Clear.

 _WHY didn't she just **tell** me about him? I mean... I'm_ trying _to come up with another rational explanation than conflicted emotions and still being at least semi-in-love with him... and failing. She had the_ perfect _opening to tell me about him, TWICE, and just-_

James stopped dead and shook his head.

_Move on, Vega. The only person who can ACTUALLY explain is not here._

\--

**From: TomTom (tom_tom@psyops.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 13:01 MST  
Subject: Take care  
Message: So, also, I've been reassigned. Was going to let you know when I saw you this morning, but you looked done-in. 2-A is empty and sorta almost clean-ish... if you want/need to move out of 2-B. If you get to the Citadel any time soon, look me up.**

This message made Vega uneasy for reasons he couldn't completely pin down. The more paranoid part of his nature was wondering what was going on at the Citadel that required PsyOps, but another part of him (perhaps almost as paranoid) wondered if Tom was, even now, informing Kaidan that James had screwed up, and the coast was clear.

 _Mierda. Do I_ need _to move?_

\--

The fourth message had been forwarded twice, but he recognized Shepard's bogus account. James steeled himself before opening it:

**From: jaiola (jaiola@hellfire.dieReapersdie.org)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 16:45 EST  
Subject: I'm sorry  
Message: that I never told you about what happened on the SR-1. I wanted to. I really did. I suppose I expected you would judge me as harshly as I did myself. Perhaps accuse me of falling into... some sort of pattern. Maybe **I** started to question whether or not I was repeating myself. We definitely met under strained circumstances, and I don't blame you for questioning either my motivations or my feelings. I'm questioning everything myself, lately. In any event, I wanted to thank you for getting me out of the null room, for keeping me safe, and for being one of the best damn soldiers I've ever served with. You should know that Alvarez offered to take over my official custody permanently, if that's your preference. You can contact him at h_alvarez@mar.alliance.mil.**

James realized he couldn't feel his feet, or something. He'd seemingly gone numb from the waist down. Breathing was difficult.

_I'm fucking being **punted**!? AFTER ALL OF THAT, I'm **FUCKING** being traded in!?_

He let himself fume out loud in Spanish for a minute or two, before forcing himself to calm down and re-read the message.

Grudgingly, he admitted, _It was a nice compliment, though._

Again.

_And at least she apologized, dammit._

He read it again. His heart thumped a few times, painfully.

_I'm just a new piece in an old puzzle, huh? I suppose... when I found out... I did wonder..._

And again.

_Eliza... if you **wanted** to tell me.... **WHY** didn't you?_

\--

James fell asleep on the couch. When he woke up around 16:00, he was no closer to figuring out what he was supposed to do, next.

Fortunately, in yet another message, Hackett _told_ him what to do.

**From: Admiral Steven Hackett (s_hackett@nav.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 15:21 MST  
Subject: Success  
Message: Check your newsfeed. Everything should be settled. Make sure Shepard reports at 07:00 on Monday for her session in front of the Committee, and for all such scheduled sessions, but otherwise you are required only to observe twice-weekly check-ins. Report ASAP to Medical in Headquarters to have your tracker removed.**

James gaped like a fish but did as ordered, quickly realizing the top pinned headline must have been what Hackett wanted him to see:

_ALLIANCE AGREES TO PAY 20 MILLION IN REPARATIONS TO BATARIAN HEGEMONY FOR LOSS OF LIFE AT ALPHA RELAY. CONDITIONAL ON PEACE TALKS, NO FURTHER ATTACKS (SEE "LATE NIGHT VANCOUVER BOMBING", NEXT SEGMENT) ON COMMANDER ELIZABETH SHEPARD._

\--

**From: Lt. James Vega (j_vega@mar.alliance.mil)  
To: Lt. Horatio Alvarez (h_alvarez@mar.alliance.mil)  
Date: 10.06.2186. 18:24 MST  
Subject: Over my dead body.  
Message: (empty)**

\--

_Finis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. while i didn't _quite_ finish ~90K in two months, i only missed it by a day or so. i'm pretty pleased. :D from the lack of reactions, though, i'm wondering how many of you i've disappointed. if you're sad/unsatisfied by the end, apologies!
> 
> this chapter is (comparatively) short, but we're constrained by James' POV, and he's had a _hell_ of a day. i'm glad there are some of you out there routing for him, because that dynamic is basically why i wanted to write this story; i've always felt that James was a fascinating mix of contradictions: that he had a lot of insecurity and pain hiding underneath a pumped-up, brash, smart-mouthed exterior, but also a huge helping of humor, loyalty, and conviction. so, yes, the process of writing this has pretty much convinced me he deserves his 'ever after.' we have a ways to go before he gets it, though.
> 
> \--
> 
>  _Elasa_ (from the Wiki) "is a pale green drink brewed on Thessia, nicknamed "Sorrow's Companion". It is described as initially sharp and cold, though not unpleasant. By contrast, the aftertaste is described as strong and lingering with a bitter flavor and an undertone of tangy sweetness. Anderson has this drink in Chora's Den whilst going through his divorce in 2165."
> 
> \--
> 
> raise your hand/let me know in comments if you figured out from hints scattered through the story that Tom has been interested in James pretty much since he first met him. anyone?
> 
> \--
> 
> Spanish:
> 
> Descomponerse ~ to decompose, to break down  
> Eso es un montón de mierda ~ That's a load of shit  
> No puedo dejar que Hackett te mate ~ I can't let Hackett kill you  
> No iré a ningún lado ~ I'm not going anywhere  
> Madre de Dios. Santa Mierda. Qué diablos ~ Mother of God. Holy shit. What the HELL?


End file.
